Any similarities to real people are pure coincidence!

Warning: This story contains scenes of violence, allusions to abuse of a child, rape, random and mindless torture, pregnancy(s), a great deal of walking and a whole lotta words strung together to make some kind of sense. And of course, a raunchy sex scene coming up. If you like a good story, this is one. Let me know if you ever find it boring, because I don’t want anyone to read this and get bored. Personally, I think this is better than TV. Also, there are horses in this story, which I didn’t mention in my summary.

Chapter 1: Aftermath

When Naomi had found Grafnon's body on the Battlefield of Kayru, an unfamiliar feeling of loss opened up within her like a great yawning cavern of darkness. He was so still and pale...she didn't think she'd feel sorry for him if he ever died, and this reaction surprised her. She thought for sure that she'd be rejoicing in his death. After all, it was his fault that all this bloodshed had occurred. But time was short. At the other end of the battlefield, in the evening light, she could see the Achthillian army approaching. She noticed that the on-coming soldiers moved very slowly, picking their way through the field. Every so often, they would stab downward with their spear or their sword, and to her ears came distant pleas for mercy and gurgling cries of finality. She didn't quite understand, at first, what was happening. She only knew that it was dangerous to be there.

Other Grektarian women also combed the field for fallen family members. Most cried out in agony and grief to come upon the dead and broken bodies of their loved ones, covered in mud and blood. Naomi however, had not cried out. She examined Grafnon and noticed that he was relatively unscathed. She turned him over, looking for signs of some wound, and he groaned. She was so startled, that she let him roll back. "Shit! He's alive!" She gestured for a stretcher, and two stretcher-bearers came quickly. They rolled him onto the canvas, then quickly took him away.

All that night and the next, they laboured to retrieve as many survivors as possible, but fewer and fewer men were found alive. They soon realized what the Achthillians were doing: systematically executing helpless and wounded Grektarians. Naomi couldn't even blame them for this. The Achthillian King used these draconian measures because Grafnon had used forbidden magic to aid his cause.

For the next month, Naomi and the other women nursed the survivors back to health. For Naomi, having the Grektar leader hidden within her own home seemed incongruous. After all, she had tried on more than one occasion to kill him. But there was something different about him now, and she couldn't place her finger on it. He looked the same: His dark hair was as unruly as ever. When he finally opened his eyes, although glazed with pain, they were the same hazel as before: gold and green and blue with seven black flecks in each eye. He was tall, with plenty of muscle. When he stood, he was the tallest man she had ever met. Lying down, the bed could hardly contain him. He always wore black, and it was odd seeing him in white jammies. His face, usually twisted into some expression of arrogance, rage, distain, or some other sinister emotion, seemed vulnerable. Many Grektarian women thought him handsome, and she could almost now agree that his features had a certain sensuality.

After six months had passed, he was fully recovered, but she did not ask him to leave. Instead, she continued to cook, clean, and garden. She dealt with any roving Achthillian patrol enquiring after any survivors, which at first, occurred frequently, then later, only occasionally. When an entire year had passed, she came out of the house one morning to find him saddling a black horse, another packhorse carrying enough provision to last a month.

His features were grim and determined; his eyes reflected a certain amount of pain when he looked at her standing on the porch. He smoothly mounted the horse and guided it to where she stood. He didn't say anything, only looked at her. She was about to ask him what he intended on doing, when he turned away from her and spurred the horse.

Last night's conversation reverberated in her ears.

"Naomi." he addressed her. "You seem to like my company." He knew this statement would annoy her, but he was merely observing her behavior. To his surprise, she blushed.

"I'm just helping out." she muttered.

"The time for helping me out passed about 6 months ago." he said dryly. "Why haven't you kicked me out?" He seemed to remember having this conversation with her before.

She got offended and stubborn. "Okay, go then."

"Don't be such a child." he snapped, annoyed at the games she played. Well at least she wasn't stabbing him in the back like she used to, he mused. I ought to be thankful for that.

But he had said the wrong thing. He sighed when her back became ramrod straight with indignation. This wasn't what he had intended. He tried again. "Naomi, listen to me. What I really mean, is that we seem to be spending a lot of time together. I mean. What I want to say is, well..."

She looked at him expectantly. When was the last time he had been at a loss for words? She wasn't going to help him out with this. She folded her arms and waited for him to struggle with whatever he was trying to say.

"Look, I want to tell you everything, but you have to trust me. Will you come with me to Clear Lake?"

She just looked at him.

"As my bride." he said, looking directly at her.

She felt all the blood leave her face. When was the last time he mentioned that? She had stabbed him in the back the last time he had tried to make her his bride. No, wait, that wasn't the last time. The last time had been on the battlefield before the battle had begun...but he had let her go then, and told her to have nothing to do with him. Had he changed his mind? She began to feel a knot form in the middle of her being. She had become close to him in this past year. They had shared meals together. She had done his laundry when it needed doing. She realized, that he was right. She was playing wife. She had not asked him to leave. Why hadn't she done that? Yet the cruel things he had done...she realized they were faded memories, yet they still served as a caution.

"You've got to say more than that if you want any kind of answer." she finally said. But he set his lips into a thin line and said no more.

Now here he was, riding away. A horrible sense of loss swept through her, worse than what she expected. She had not even felt this way when she had first discovered his body on the battlefield and thought him dead. She ran into the house and quickly changed. She ran down the road that he had taken, hardly giving any thought as to what exactly her actions indicated.

He had already crossed over the bridge that spanned the gorge.

She stood at the bridge, watching the cloud of dust in the far distance that could only be him. She looked down into the gorge. Below, a deep river that emptied into Clear Lake ran swiftly by. If she followed that, she'd be at the lake before him...Without another thought, she extended her arms upward, and dove off of the bridge into the chilly river water. She fell like a lance.

She followed the river's course and finally came to the lake. She tried not to think about what her actions meant, for if she did, her mind was immediately thrown into confusion. He was a man with a lot of power bent on revenge against the Achthillian King. Could she align herself with such a man?

She swam across part of the lake, landing on the shore where he was most likely to appear. She lay down on the beach for a while, catching her breath. When she rolled over, she stared up at the sky. It had been a long swim. Maybe he had already gotten here. She looked across the open expanse of ground between the beach and the entrance to the lake, and saw him only a little way off. She stood up happily and waved. He brought his steed to a full stop, staring at Naomi. Then he dismounted and came toward her, a puzzled look on his face. Now what? he wondered. Is this another game?

Her clothing was stuck to her body, which gave him a full idea of what she looked like without anything at all, but she seemed unaware of the picture that she presented to him. He felt something inside of him break at the possibility that she was here to agree to his proposal. It wasn't possible...but what other reason was there for her presence? His steps quickened without him realizing. She swam down the river...What a crazy bitch! he realized. She jumped off the bridge!

He didn't say anything. He came right up to her and put his arms around her as if she was the life preserve and he the drowning man. He didn't let go right away, but when he did, it was only for an inch, just enough to tilt her head upwards...he could taste the lake on her mouth.

She found the shock of his lips on hers to be an overwhelming experience. Far from the forceful rapacious selfish kiss that she had been half-expecting, this was the total opposite of that. She could feel something coming from him that seemed to make her think that he cared about her. Besides that, he smelled of leather and horses and sun. Her senses drank this in. The feel of his arms around her made her feel sheltered and desired. Something within her responded like the sun on ice. The closeness and heat from his body was a shock she found delightful.

He suddenly stopped kissing her and held her at arm's length, his fingers digging into her shoulders. "By god, Naomi, tell me that you came because...tell me that your here because...O by all that is holy, Naomi, why are you here?"

He suddenly seemed really angry, and she was still reeling from that kiss. In a small voice, she answered lamely: "I wanted to surprise you."

He half-collapsed onto the sand. "You stupid stupid wench." he finally said, as if her answer had taken the wind out of his sails. "You could have been killed!" Then, in a cold and quiet tone, he said: "Sit down."

She did as he told her, trembling in the cool breeze. He put his sun-warmed jacket around her shoulders. "Well," he began. "That wasn't the answer I had been expecting, but since you pulled that jack-ass stunt to get here, I guess it's just as good."

"I'm one of very few Grektar man left alive." he began. "I will say the same thing to you now as I did back then. I can have my pick of women, and I chose you. I haven't been able to let it go, and the only reason I let it go last time was..was that evil thing inside of me. I don't know what happened to it, but its gone. It's been gone for a whole year. I woke up in your house, and it was gone. You've got to know...You have to trust me; I didn't put it there to begin with. All the evil I did in the name of power and conquest...It wasn't me. I would never have done it." He said this last thing quite vehemently, and she cringed. She closed her eyes and turned her head away from him.

He reached out and gently touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. He realized that he was putting her in a difficult position. He knew how she had felt about his part in the war. He stood up and began unpacking the packhorse. He unsaddled the black horse and hobbled both horses so they wouldn't wander too far. He busied himself with setting up camp near the small strip of sand. He built a fire and cooked dinner. She didn't refuse any food that he offered her.

Night had fallen. They sat opposite one another, the campfire in-between. He looked across at her with some concern since she had refused to remove her damp clothing. The small fire was not enough to take the chill off. She was shivering uncontrollably now. Her lips were blue. This was not good. But he did nothing.

Instead, he began to talk. "One of the reasons I wanted you to come here was to tell you that I am going to kill that Achthillian King for what he did to our people. I can't let it be. The towns and villages are too empty. I can no longer bear it."

She looked up at him, her eyes wide. He was saying something, she realized, but she was so miserable with cold she could hardly focus on his words. Probably the same old thing about revenge. He ranted like that on occasion...

He had spoken at some length about his plans, when she suddenly lay down. He got up and went over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder. She was ice cold. He picked her up and took her to the small lean-to. He took off all of the damp clothes that she had refused to take off because of his presence. He paused for a moment, watching the light from the campfire dance across her pale skin. He reached out, then withdrew his hand. He shook his head. Man, she'd be pissed off at him for even thinking that! He touched his fingers to his lips, remembering that first real kiss he had earlier shared with her. Then he piled every blanket he had onto her. He folded up his jacket and put it under her head. She must have swum a couple miles at least from the river's mouth to this beach. He shook his head and went to lie down by the fire. He probably wouldn't get very much sleep tonight..

Naomi awoke very late the next day, in fact, she had nearly slept the entire day away, but when she awoke, she realized two things: one, she could never allow Grafnon to go to Achthillia, and two, she was naked.

She didn't know how she was going to stop him, and she knew she had to, but first, she needed her clothing.

She knew that there was no way he'd listen to her. She saw his determination and strength. If she should declare herself his enemy now, she feared that he might very well eliminate her. She felt very vulnerable. Her strength was gone. Was there any way she could possibly fight him?

"Naomi?" came Grafnon's voice from the back of the lean-to.

"Yes?" she answered

He thrust his hand around the corner. "Here's your clothes," he said quite matter-of-factly.

She sat up, clutching the covers closely, keeping a hawk eye on his position, and grabbed the bundle of clothing from his hand. His hand withdrew and he backed away. She quickly dressed and adjusted her clothing, then stepped out from under the shelter.

The sun was already near the horizon. Grafnon was cooking dinner on an open fire. His back was to her. She paused, her gaze boring into him as if by looking alone, she could divine his true intention. He turned his head and glanced at her when he realized that she was standing there for too long. He reached casually for the long hunting knife that he kept tied to his thigh. "I haven't felt that murderous intent from you in a long time." He said, and slowly stood up to face her.

By god, he was tall. Naomi flared her nostrils. Her eyes flashed dangerously. She was unarmed. What did he intend on doing? Could she defend herself from him? Could she outrun him? Not wanting to take her eyes off of him, she listened for the sound of the horses chomping on the nearby grass, gauging their distance. With a head start, she might out-distance him, but that wicked knife could be thrown like lightning...Her heart began to thud. Her legs were still weak from yesterday's fiasco.

She felt the fight go out of her. She bowed her head for a moment and composed herself. She heard him step toward her, then felt the point of his knife beneath her chin. With it, he forced her chin back up.

Her body shook with helplessness. She could feel tears building up painfully behind her eyeballs. She clenched her hands into fists, then relaxed them. What could she do, but surrender?

"What do you want, Grafnon?" she asked through gritted teeth. She put shaking hands to her bodice and began unbuttoning it.

He put one hand over her two. "Stop that." he said.

"You've already seen me!" she accused.

"Not like this, Naomi." he said quietly, almost with a note of pleading. He let his hand fall away, then he took the knife away from her throat and put it back. "You don't want me. It's pretty clear." His eyes glittered a little and his mouth twisted into a grimace. "I would never force you to do something like that." He shrugged and swallowed and didn't meet her gaze. "Last night...last night I just did what had to be done." Then his gaze met hers like a challenge. He folded his arms across his chest and strolled back to the burning food. He tossed it and started anew.

How did he do that? she wondered. He was the one who had put the knife under her chin, not the other way around. Why was it that she was the one that felt like an ass? Had she misunderstood him somehow, or was he just so very much smarter than she was? But something inside wanted to know the reason he felt he needed to walk the path he had chosen so willfully.

She moved quietly to stand opposite of him, on the other side of the small fire. "Why?" she said in a tearful and quiet voice. "Why do you want to continue on?"

He looked up at her, puzzled. "Continue on?" he prompted.

"Revenge." she said simply.

"Oh." he said, a cold expression settling on his features. "I've made my intentions clear last night, Naomi. I can see you don't like it. But here at the Lake, you may say what you wish. I won't harm you in any way. This is the truce ground. I didn't invite you here to fight with you. I will honor that. If you align yourself against me here, in this place, I will do you no harm. But if we meet outside this place, and you defy me, I will kill you." He stabbed his long hunting knife into the ground beside the fire. He put so much force into it that sand and gravel spattered in a small circle around the blade. He looked up at her with cold eyes. "Nothing personal." he smiled.

She felt a cold, crawling sensation up her back..."I will finish the job I started." she vowed to him. "You better not turn your back to me again."

"I won't." he said calmly, stirring the food on the fire, then spooning it onto two plates. He offered her one, along with a mug of the dark liquid. She accepted it, and they ate in silence together.

"I will find the power I need to defeat him." he told her quietly. determined to endure anything. "And when I do find it...The King of Achthillia better watch out. I was just hoping..." he turned his unreadable gaze toward her again. "...that before I did that...before I turn myself back into a monster, I could have a little time as a human."

A cold rage welled up within her, one to match his. He had been planning this the whole time they had ministered to his wounds. Why hadn't they left him for dead? "This truce is over." she said. "You never stopped being a monster!" she accused.

They both suddenly stood up, Grafnon pulling the knife up out of the ground. "What are you going to do?" she asked scornfully. "Kill an unarmed woman?"

"If I have to." he said quietly. He stepped over the fire and was beside her in an instant. At the same time, she spun around to flee for her life. He caught her wrist and pulled her forcefully against him. He held her easily with one arm, his lips inches from hers. "But I'd rather not." He could feel the rage vibrating inside of her, and he laughed at how easily he had caught her. If she really had wanted to leave, she would have eluded him just as easily. He lowered his head to test his theory, but didn't quite kiss her...Ah, he thought. She's waiting for it. She had held her breath. She hadn't closed her eyes, but she didn't turn away...She had become very still. "Naomi." he whispered, his lips nearly brushing against hers as he spoke her name. He tightened his arm around her. By god, she was a lovely thing! He would really miss her, but it didn't matter. Once he had the power that he needed... He closed the gap between their lips.