A/N: Hello there everyone, Here's another story I've done with my new friend Anna. 83 She plays Damien, and will be playing others later on.
Thanks again Anna ^-^
"A woman captured: Maria is a slave forced to care for the prisoners of her owners when she discovers an honest man behind the bars. A man taken prisoner: Damien Black was well known as the Black Knight, captured in the mist of a battle to be tortured by his enemies who want to get rid of his whole army."
How exactly had he been captured? Eyes unfocused, the man tried to remember what had happened. The battle had been fierce, bloody and he had been going through it like the wraith, killing all of those that he didn't know personally. No one had been able to touch him through the armor he wore. Lightweight and flexible, he had been made by his own mother over a decade past, just because she'd died.
Screams had followed him wherever he'd gone, letting everyone know that The Reaper was coming, that he was there. No target had ever been missed, his hands had been sure, blades true to their marks, twisting to make sure the enemy died. As the leader had faced a large man, the two circling each other, the battle had raged all on sides. This was the one that had to die, no matter what. Just as he'd attacked, the window had blown and some kind of powder had seemed to come out of no where.
The powder. Damnation! That was what had felled him. The large man had cheated in the laws of battle. Instead of fighting like a man he'd fought like; he shuddered; a woman. Treacherous beings.
Now, because he hadn't been prepared for the cheating bastard, this is where the leader of an army sat, chained with his arms behind his back and his ankles tied together. There was no way to get out, he'd already tried that. Wrists raw from struggling, ankles chaffed from the tightness of the rope. The only thing to do was to wait and see if those speaking outside his cell would kill him, torture him or ransom him. It was well known the the Black Knights had gathered their fair share of gold from kings and royals, not caring who they stole from.
Damien Black was the leader of those ruffians, and the most important of the group. Leaning his head on his shoulder, so that he could hear the men outside his door speaking better, he cursed softly to himself. What they said they were going to do would surely kill him. Without a shirt, Damien's broad, muscled chest showed the scars from years of battle and a tapered waist. Thank the gods they had left his trousers in place, he hated being bared for all men to see.
When the door to his cell was opened, with a loud scraping and squeaking, Damien turned his chiseled face away from the bright light of a torch entering. Seems they were going to torture him. He sighed, tightening his body for the pain to come. It was too bad none of his men would come for him, at least not until they had a plan, that could take days, if not weeks. Meaning he would suffer through this for a while. When the first hand fell on him, Damien started to fight, no willing to go quietly unless they drugged him once more.
Damn the gods! And damn them some more! Damien hadn't been able to help the few noises he'd made during the first day of torture. As he was thrown, literally, into his cell, landing on the cuts on his chest, he let out a load groan. Left eye nearly swollen shut, he looked around with his right Grey eyes, not seeing much in the darkness as the door closed. With his hands still tied behind his back, it was hard to sit up, and he ground his teeth together at the pain.
Whipping had taken place. Lots and lots of whipping. His back was covered in the welts, bleeding freely down his back. When he hadn't made a sound during the lashes, they'd moved on to something much more painful, demanding to know where his men lay in wait just before pressing a red hot poker to the soles of his feet. That had made him cry out, just the once, having been unprepared for it. His head had been forced between two pieces of wood and strapped in place so he couldn't thrash that part of himself and end up knocking himself unconscious. They wanted him awake for the whole thing.
Crawling on his knees as best he could, Damien went over to the mildew covered wall to rest against. Maybe if he got himself infected, he would die before the torture could get even worse.
The sound of the solders laughing always made her cringe in her place. The smelled of sweat and looked beyond gross in her eyes. Standing in the dim light, waiting for a signal to do her job. Maria looked up from the ground as soon as she was ordered down to the dungeon. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a very loose looking ponytail, and her dress was a faded gray color.
She had been a slave for nearly seven months, captured from her village outside the kingdom. Her mother had been captured, and to her knowledge; she had been murdered for speaking her mind.
"Hello wench." said a low life solder. He held a sharp looking dagger in his hand. "Clean that prisoner of ours nicely." he said walking passed her, and then slapped her on the butt.
Maria flinched and didn't say a thing. Her light blue eyes narrowed some and she opened the dungeon door.
The dark ground was wet, and she was unable to see. But, the moon light from the outside showed her the way to where Damien was. Making her way to him slowly, she swallowed some. The water bowl in her hand sloshed around as she walked. Slightly bending down to him. She spoke quietly. "I'm here to clean your sores, sir."
This should have been expected, to have someone come in and clean the wounds that his captors had made. What wasn't expected, what hadn't even crossed the man's mind was that they would send in a woman to clean his wounds instead of doing it themselves. Damien stared at the door of his cell, hissing when it was opened to admit a woman into his domain. Eyes narrowed to get used to the light, he studied the female as best he could, looking over her body. It was obvious what they were doing now. No doubt in his mind what she was here to do.
"I'm not telling you, either," he snarled at her, still pressing his back hard to the wall, refusing to let her clean the wounds. He would never give up his men, they were his family and he would die for his family. In the most horrendous way, he would die. It didn't matter though, Gregory could take care of his army, they would continue fighting and gaining what they wanted, no matter who was their leader. Damien closed his eyes a moment, unable to keep the lids up but he quickly realized what he'd done and snapped them opened to glare at the female, his bound arms straining against the ropes keeping them behind his back. His muscles bulged, he gritted his teeth. "Release me!" he practically roared at the woman, just waiting for the soldiers to come in and either knock him out or hold him down.
Maria closed the door behind her quietly. "Please calm down." she said walking towards him slower then before. If he was loud, it was her who would pay the price. "I've got to clean you." she said now standing in front of him, and bending down in front of him. "I haven't a choice." she replied to him snarling at her. Whatever they had done to him, must of made him so upset to the point of shouting. "Turn around." she said seeing his arms behind his back. "Whenever a solder passes by, hide your arms." she said timidly untying him. Why was she doing this? He could hurt her. And the thought made her look away from Damien. Turning back to the bowl she took out the rag. "Please let me.."
"Never," Damien growled from between his teeth, when his arms were free, he flexed his fingers to get the blood moving into the digits. If he'd been a lower man, he might have attacked the female, but being a knight, he wouldn't dare hit a lady. There was no way she would be getting that cloth to his back to clean the wounds there. He wouldn't allow it, dying for his family from infection, not feeling a thing was weak, he knew, but he wouldn't give his tormentors the pleasure of him living through so much. A man could only take so much before he broke, that much was true, and though Damien could take a lot, he had his own breaking point.
"If you don't I'll get punished." Maria said in a whisper. The thought of even getting touched by the lowlifes made her shiver in her place. "I'm sure for whatever you did that it'll be pay for soon." she timidly place the rage on one of his wounds. Afraid he would snap at her again she spoke quickly, "My name is Maria. I've been here for seven months after they brought me here." she said quietly. "I'm sorry about this, they are ruthless." she spoke again dipping the rag into the water again. "I'm not supposed to talk to you." she said in a sudden realization. "Sorry."
A man taken was always harsh, and Damien was no exception to that. He hissed and tried to skid himself backwards even though he was already pressed against the wall at his back. He bared his teeth in a grimace, even just the water and rag stinging at the wounds. "Maria," he spat out angrily, not about to believe anything that came from between her lips, "Get out and rot. They won't hurt their whore, that much is always true. All you needs do is flash some ankle and a pretty smile and they will all be drooling about your feet, no doubt."
"I'm not a whore." Maria said defensively, and continued cleaning him up. It stung slightly when he called her a whore but, she didn't talk back ever. "You don't have to believe me, when I say I never speak." looking over her shoulder for a second she placed the rag down into the bowl of water to wash the blood out. "I need to clean your back." she said looking up at him. "Then I'll leave."
Damien stared at her, just stared with hard eyes. She seemed scared, but he saw no bruises or cuts to prove her words. With a grumble, he flopped himself forward to lay upon the ground on his chest, cushioning his head on his forearms so that she could clean his back that was covered in slime from the walls now. "Then clean me and leave," he snapped, his eyes closed, ready for the pain of the rough rag against his skin. This was no doubt going to hurt him more then it would hurt her.
Maria turned back to the bowl, taking out the rag she turned back to him. "It's going to sting some." she warned before rubbing the rag gently on his back. The mildew from the wall was all over his cuts. She made a twisted face, before cleaning it off as painless as she could. The rag wasn't the best thing in the world to clean them off with, but it was the only thing she had.
Glancing over the scares on his back, she looked away to clean off the rag. "What are you here for?" she asked tilting her head down as she eased her hand over the cut. 'Why torture?' she thought before pulling her hand away.
Unable to help hissing at the first touch of the rag, the man turned his face deeper into the crook of his arms to keep from crying out. This felt almost as bad as receiving the lashes. He heard her question, but didn't answer right away, instead, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. Pain always did that to him, made his heart race and his body tense. It would be better to relax his body, it wouldn't hurt as badly, but any soldier knew that that was easier said then done. "I am the Black Knight," he said between gritted teeth, "As if you did not know that already."
Maria stopped abruptly. "The black knight?" she asked looking down at him in disbelief. "When my mother was around, she told me stories of you." Maria turned back to the bowl and placed the rag into the bowl. "I didn't know you were." she admitted before taking out a thing of wrappings. "I'm almost done, Mister. black knight." she said softly. "I don't know if I'll be cleaning you up again, so can I at least know your name?"
Never. Never his name, only those he trusted knew his true name. Damien said nothing to that question, not about to answer her. His army knew his name, and a few others that had served alongside him in his younger years. Ever since he'd become the knight though he hadn't told enemies his real name, that just would not do, not at all. "Leave me," he told her once he felt the wrappings going around his body to keep the grit and dirt from getting into the wounds. He wondered, for a moment, if she would try to tie his hands once more, but doubted it, she didn't seem like one of those women that actually knew how to tie a good knot.
Maria flinched slightly, but said nothing. "Okay." she said standing up. "I'm not tying your arms." she said staring down at him. "I'll hope you at least escape." she said smiling softly. "You will be okay." she said stepping back, and to the door. Before opening it up, and locking it behind her.
Damien stared at the door for several moments after the woman had left, his chin on his forearms as he watched. He knew she wouldn't be coming back, but the fact that he'd just had someone to talk to that wasn't demanding to know where his men were was slightly refreshing. Even though he had only been here for a day. It felt like he'd been here an eternity, getting tortured and then healed. With his hands being untied, Damien stood up slowly, having to brace a hand on the wall beside him to keep from falling flat once more. There was no way he'd be escaping, he had lost too much blood. "Damnation," he muttered.
I hope you enjoyed this. Comment nicely.