The following morning Sang was awoken to Evana shaking her awake. "Come on Sang, the Captain will be here soon and the man is not a patient one. Come, lets get you dressed." Sang not yet still awake pushes Evana's hands from her shoulders, pulling the blanket up over her head groaning.
"No. Go away, I'm not ready yet." The blanket was pulled back causing Sang to shiver against the cold air. Pulling her legs to her chest trying to savour the remaining warmth, she was met with a pair of steel grey eyes. "Your not Evana."
"Clearly. Now get up. You have five minutes to get dressed before I drag you out in what you are wearing." His eyes roam over her as he finally takes in what she is wearing.
"Were have I heard that before." She mutters, thinking to the first time he woke her up.
She smirks up at him knowing he has been caught checking her out. The Captains eyes meet hers and what looks like the start of a smile takes over his lips. "Please you are hardly worth looking at, nothing more than bones."
Sang jumps out of bed pushing him back shooting him a glare. "And whose fault is that."
Walking over to Evana who holds her clothes and takes them from her heading towards the bathroom. She slams the door behind her stripping out of her nightgown and putting on the loose pants, white long sleeve shirt. She finds a strip of cloth that she ties around her waist trying to give the outfit a bit of shape.
After slashing some water on her face and using the facilities, Sang heads back out of the room to where Evana and the Captain were eyeing each other off.
"Come on Captain, we don't have all day." She says marching towards the door.
"Aren't you forgetting something?" She turns around and raises an eyebrow in a silent question. He points to her feet and she glance down realising that she doesn't have any shoes on.
"Oh. Yeah. Do I have some?" Sang look around trying to find if she had any shoes. She hasn't worn any for so long, she actually forgot that they even existed.
Shaking his head at her, he reaches beside the door and picks up a pair throwing them at her. After a glare sent in the Captains direction, Sang sat down on the floor and put the shoes on.
The Captain stared down at her as a look of confusion crossed his face. Not sure what that was about she shrugged to herself and continued to lace up her laces.
They finally made it out the door and were instantly surrounded by Silas, North, Sean and the Captain. The Captain started of in a jog, leaving us no other choice but to follow.
The pace set by the Captain wasn't a fast one, a steady jog, but after years of not running it wasn't long before Sang became winded and weak from fatigue. But she didn't stop, pushing through the pain and wiping the sweat from her face as she continued to try and keep pace with the others.
They ran through a clearing through the trees until the reach an open field. The Captain led them to a clearing and stopped and turned around to face Sang.
Putting a finger up before he can speak, Sang makes a beeline to the tree line and the nausea that Sang had been holding back came back with a vengeance.
Wiping her mouth she looks up at the Captain. "What?"
Sean made a move towards her but the Captain held up a hand stopping him in his tracks never tacking his eye off of her.
"You are weak." He declares.
"Great observation you have ther Captain Obvious." I stand up straight stretching my arms over my head. "So what next?"
Sang could see his jaw clenched shut and his fist clenched at his side. The Captain took a step towards her, raising a fist to connect with her face. Out of reflex, Sang duck down and came up swinging a kick straight for his family dwells. As soon as she made contact she knew instantly that she was in a shit load of trouble.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the other three cringe as the Captain fell to his knees grasping hold of his abused package.
"Umm, my bad. Sorry about that. Maybe. Actually nope, you deserved it. Shouldn't go punching people in the face. Or being an arse. I don't need your criticism to tell me how weak and how useless I am. I know that. You spend a year in the mines and lets see how high and mighty the good Captain is once he is released. I bet you wouldn't even last have a year." I fold my arms over my chest glaring down at him.
Sang turns around and walks a short distance from the others and starts to do her own exercise. The others stay out of her way allowing her to continue at her own pace. She didn't need them or their help, she had managed just fine before, and she wasn't going to have an arrogant prick breathing down her neck.
After completing a serious of all different stomach exercises, she moves on to her arms and starts with some push-ups before moving over to a tree and trying to do some pull ups. After only being able to complete a few, she goes back to the ground and grabs a couple of heavy rocks and does some curls. He continued repeating this until she could no longer lift her arms, or produce another sit-up. The feeling of nausea welled up in her again, making her fall to the ground and dry heave.
By the time the Captain came over to her, the sun was now into the late afternoon, and he was holding some water out for her to take. Not realising how thirty she was she swallowed the water in a matter of seconds.
"You need to eat. I wont have you passing out, and then having to carry you back." Still looking out for number one.
"And who said chivalry was dead." She smirks up at him and walks over to wear the others were sitting down around a small feast. She had no idea were it came from, but she wasn't complaining.
They ate in silence, she occasionally caught them giving her quizzical looks, not sure what that was about though.
"Miss Sang, can I ask what you did before you went to the Slave Mines?" Hmm, how to tell them about a past that is yet to happen.
"Why? What's it matter to you what I did?" She doesn't stop eating, shovelling in as much as she can.
Silas rubs the back of his neck as if he is trying to find the right words. "It doesn't, not really. I just want to hear your story."
"No. You just want to know what I did wrong to get send there." They all look away guiltily except the Captain who eyes never weaver from her own.
"And what did you do Slave to get sent there?" Deep breath in, deep breathe out.
"Why? So you are justified with the way you treat me. The way you talk down to me, as if I'm nothing but a hindrance to you and your Prince. I don't have to explain anything to you or your man, I am here to train for a barbaric competition, and if I win, you wont have to see me again."
"You're a very angry person aren't you?" Even though it was a question, he also worded it like a statement.
Sighing to herself, she fell back lying down on the grass looking up at the sky. "I never use to be."
Jumping to her feet, having enough training for the day, she starts to head back.
Once she reaches her accommodations she paused with one hand on the door. "I was part of a group that help those who couldn't or would not help themselves. I helped the less fortunate to lead a better life and show them that they didn't have to suffer and the hands of their abusers." Sang looked straight up at the Captain, meeting his cold gaze. "I was a good person, and I was punished for it."
With that she walked inside closing the door behind her.
⚜⚜⚜⚜⚜
The king had requested a meeting from his son, the Crown Prince of England. Unbeknown to Victor the king wasn't quite true full with the meaning of the competition. The king had only return from the unknown, from his lasted visit outside the castle that had been met with secrecy and suspicion.
As the Prince stared at his father unblinkingly, waiting for him to speak. The king was seated on his throne as he watched him back just as silently. Sometimes Victor forgot how little he looked like his father – it was his younger brother, Christian, who took after the king, with his large frame and his round, razor-eyed face, and his barbarous personality. But Victor, tall, toned, , and elegant, bore no resemblance to him. And then there was the matter of Victor's fire eyes, just as he had heard Sang murmur under her breathe – not even his mother had his eyes. No one knew where they came from, and it was for these reason he liked his eyes, more of a reason to not have to associate any part to the man who had fathered him.
"The slave has arrived?" his father asked. His voice was hard, edged with the clash of cruelty he is so good at displaying. As far as greetings went, that was probably the warmest one he'd get.
"She shouldn't pose a problem while she's here," Victor said calmly as he could. Picking Sorenson had been a gamble – a bet against his father's forbearance. The Prince was about to see if it was worth it.
"You, son, think like every simpleton she has murdered." Continued the king, clearly enjoying himself, "she owes fidelity to none other but herself, and won't balk at putting a knife through your heart."
"Which is why she will be fully capable of winning this competition of yours." The king said nothing to Victor. "Come to think of it, the whole competition might be unnecessary." Victor didn't believe his own words, but couldn't help but try and goad his father.
"You say that because you're afraid of losing good coin, or because you know she has no chance at winning?" If only his father knew that he hadn't just ventured to find a champion to win gold, but also to get out – to get away from him, for as long as he could manage.
Victor steeled his nerve, remembering the words he'd been brooding over for the entire journey from the Slave Mines "I guarantee by the time the competition starts, she will be more than capable of winning. As I've told you already; it is pointless to continue just so you can all enjoy a blood bath, of women killing each other. Does this not make us just as back as the peasants you sent of to the Slave Mines?" Victor knew he was pushing to hard, but the words he had spoken from the slave had him agreeing with her assessment on them. Was she correct in her assumption that we - those who hold power - are the barbarians?
"If you do not mind your tongue, I'll have her use you for practice."
"And then what? Have Christian take the throne?" Victor would make sure, even on his last dying breath that, his idiot of a brother would never sit his over apathetic arse on that throne.
"Do not doubt me, Victor," his father challenged. "You might think this... slave can win, but you forget that Lord Treevern is sponsoring Katrina. You would have been better picking a Champion like her – forged in blood and iron, a true Champion."
Victor stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Don't you find it a little ridiculous, given that our 'Champions' are no more than criminals?"
"And a criminal is what we will need to get what needs to be done. Does she know of the real reason for this competition? That the promise of freedom comes with a price?"
"And what would you do if she did? Does she not have the right to know that if she wins, she will be used as another tool in your belt?"
His father rose from his throne and pointed at the map painted on the far wall of his council chamber. "I am the conqueror of this continent, and soon to be ruler of all Ireland. You will not question me."
Victor, realising how close he was to crossing a boundary between insolent and insurrection – a boundary that he'd been very, very careful to maintain – mumbled his apologies.
"We are at war," his father went on. "I have enemies all around. Who better to do my work than someone utterly grateful for being granted not only a second chance, but also wealth and the power of my name?"
"You do not know if she will be grateful for this father. If she is as dangerous as you make her out to be, than are we not just providing her with an excuse to rebel against us even more so?"
The king waves his hand as if she is nothing more than a fly that can be waved away. "She has the chance at freedom and much more. She should be thankful you have given her the chance to serve me, than continue a life in that foul place."
"A place that you condone father, a place you had placed her in for the last year. She holds no warm feelings towards you or your kingdom. You would be best hiring someone else for this task. Do as you say, as she believes, and give her the freedom she so rightfully deserves, when she wins this competition."
"I will do no such thing, and if you continue to question my judgement boy, you will find yourself at the other end of her sword, as the first one on the list of many to be killed." The king smiled when Victor didn't reply. Victor tried not to flinch as his father studied him. "Griffin tells me that you behaved yourself well on this trip."
"With Griffin as a watchdog, I couldn't do otherwise."
"I'll not have some peasant woman banging on he gate, willing that you've broken her heart." Victor's face coloured, but he did not drop his father's stare. "I've toiled too hard and long to establish my empire; you will not complicate it with illegitimate heirs. Marry a proper woman, and then dally, as you will after you give me a grandson or two. When you are king, you will understand consequences."
"When I'm king, I won't publicize control over England through an emaciated claims of bequest."
Owen had counselled him to exercise caution when speaking to his father, but when he spoke to him like that, as if he were a self-indulged fool...
"Even if you offered them self-rule, those rebels would mount your head on a pike before the gates of this Kingdom."
"Perhaps alongside all my illegitimate heirs, if I'm so fortunate. Mayhap the slave will be the one to do it."
The king gave him a poisonous smile. "My silver-tongued son." They watched each other in silence before Victor spoke again.
"This game you are playing father, do you think you are god and that there will not be consequences for the actions you provoke? The way you are going, the slaves and those rebels you speak of will revolt and then what? It is only a matter of time before they are forced to fight back."
"Playing?" The king smiled, his horrible stained yellow teeth glowing in the firelight. "I am not playing. And this is no game." Victor shoulders stiffened. "Though she may look pleasant, she's still a conniving slave. You are to keep your distance, understood?"
"Who? The Champion?"
"She's dangerous, boy, even if you're sponsoring her. She wants one thing and one thing only – don't think she won't use you to get it. If you court her, the consequences will not be pleasant. Not from her, and not from me."
"And if I condescend to associate with her, what will you do, father?" Throw me in the mines as well?"
His father was upon him before Victor could brace himself. The back of the king's hand connected with Victor's cheek, and the prince staggered, but regained his countenance. His face throbbed, stinging so badly he fought to keep his wyes from watering. "Son or no son," the king snarled, "I am still your king. You will obey me, Victor Morgan, or you will pay. I'll have no more of your questioning."
Knowing he'd only cause more trouble for himself if he stayed, the crown Victor bowed silently and left his father, eyes gleaming with barely controlled anger.