[Flashback] Cursed Hands

[Cassandra Coven]

67th of Spring, 510 AV

Cassandra paused for a moment to take a breather, leaning heavily on the bar and setting down the drinks tray, empty now after she had served that last round to the few remaining customers. It was near closing time, probably just an hour away or so. The door had stopped opening to the entry of new people and there were only several customers left – a couple of craftsmen in a heated, if somewhat silent, argument over their work, the official drunk of the tavern (every tavern in Syliras probably had one), and, of course, Markain sitting by the corner nursing his drink and waiting for her to finish her shift.

The young man started coming in regularly for the last several of weeks, after a group of his friends brought him in for a round. Cassandra had served them then and she must have caught his eye for he never missed a night coming in since then. Sometimes he arrived with his friends, but usually he came in alone. It didn't take long for him to ask her specifically to serve him rather than any of the other serving girls. She didn't mind really, he was a good-looking man, with wavy blonde hair any woman would want to run her fingers through and light blue eyes she could easily get lost in.

At first, Cassandra flirted with him to get him to drop coin for drinks or the house special, but Markain was very liberal with his money as long as she was the one attending to him. Pretty soon, she would linger for a moment by his table, exchanging short conversations with him. He was easy to talk to, intelligent and very polite, though he often spoke more than she did. Their talks revealed several things about him, like his parents were refugees from Sunberth and that he worked as an apprentice locksmith and that he enjoyed spending time outside the gates and breathing the fresh air rather than being locked inside the fortress city. It was also from one such talk that he professed his attraction for her.

Initially, Cassandra played along, all batting eyelashes and giggles as they exchanged wordplay. But it became increasingly obvious that Markain was earnest about her, or at least that was what he was letting on. In fact, tonight he brought her a bouquet – the freshest spring flowers she had ever seen – and even good-naturedly endured the ribbing he received from the regulars, who knew his designs on their “favorite barmaid” as they liked to call Cassandra.

Even before the flowers, the young woman had already started considering whether she would take him seriously or not. He was not like the others who more often than not showed their desires for her by reaching out a hand to try and grab her buttocks. It was easy enough to dance away from those, though there were occasions when she had let a cute one get a free squeeze, if only to make him sit on his chair longer and buy more drinks. And while she had caught Markain staring at her like he was undressing her with his eyes more than once, the man had avoided making any overt advances on her other than briefly clasping her hand once. He might be different than the others – he was different – but then he hardly knew her. Cassandra thought her real self a far cry from the extroverted persona she put on when serving in the tavern. Outside of work - and she never left the small apartment she shared with her mother when she wasn't working - she was often withdrawn and silent. Her past life had left her emotionally scarred, horribly so, and only she and her mother knew about it. Would this man still accept her if he knew what she had gone through? Would she be able to take him in, make her a part of her life? These were but a few of the many questions that ran through her mind as she considered the man sitting silently by the corner table.

Markain must have sensed her gaze; he flashed her a warm smile and her insides melted.

Would it be so bad to give him a chance?

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra knew it wasn’t the question she was supposed to be asking herself, but rather if she could handle letting a man into her life. Would she have a story different from her mother’s, who’s need to feel secure in another’s arms led them to this life, away from their real home? Or would she walk the same path, destined to suffer the bruises and indignities of abuse once more? But she never gave voice to such questions, choosing to follow the emotions that were beginning to burn in her heart. Not all men were the same, as she had learned from her years working as serving girl in the tavern. Not everyone was only after the feel of her bare skin beneath their fingertips – surely there were those who would want to give her a good life, make her their wife… Cassandra wanted to believe that.

She had to believe that.

Or else she’d be waiting on tables and serving drinks and dodging grubby hands that wanted nothing more than to give a smack or a squeeze on her rump for a long, long time. As she finished wiping clean the last of the unused tables, Cassandra glanced once more at Markain. He was done with his drink and she took the mug from him with a demure smile. Maybe he can give her the better life she wanted. Perhaps she should give him a chance. She will give him a chance.

Surrendering the empty mug and her dirty rag to the barkeep – the owner of the establishment – she asked if she could end her shift early. There were only a few customers left around, surely he could take care of them? He also knew of Markain’s growing attraction to one of his serving girls, and Cassandra had earned for him a good portion of the contents of the young man’s pockets from her flirtations with him over the week, too. The barman acquiesced, but only this once, he said. Make the most out of it, he then added with a sly wink. What ever could he mean by that?

Elated but trying to keep her emotions in checked, Cassandra dusted her skirt and straightened her blouse in an attempt to make herself more presentable for Markain. Perhaps he’d take her to a moonlit walk across the grounds, maybe share a first kiss? She wouldn’t mind, she really wouldn’t. She went to him, practically skipping along with the beat of her heart.

“Let’s go,” she said, giving him a smile similar to the one she gave earlier. Only this time, the corners of her lips seemed to be tugging it wider with each second as she watched his eyes light up at her words. They exited the tavern together, their steps as light as how both of them must be feeling at that moment.

In her excitement to leave, Cassandra forgot the flowers Markain had given her at the backroom. Oh well. She could always get it tomorrow. This night, they had each other all to themselves – no distractions. For once.

[Cassandra Coven]

Their footsteps echoed through the stone hallways as they weaved their way around the maze-like alleys and byways of the Third Tier, the ground level of Stormhold Castle. Markain’s were surprisingly quiet, almost as soft as the footfalls of Cassandra’s sandaled feet. New soles, perhaps? He certainly had the means to afford them. It was just as well they were quiet though; any noise they made might disturb the slumbering populace of the residential area of the castle. The place was truly quiet – the only people they ran across were the occasional patrol of knights doing their rounds. Markain would give them a polite nod and smile, hinting at them that he was just out for a late evening stroll with his female companion.

Strangely enough, the man had refrained from touching her, even to just hold her hand. He kept his hands clasped behind his back, each holding the other tightly as if Markain was afraid that, if left to their own devices, they would be up to no good. He seemed quite stiff as well, almost awkward, so unlike his usual composed self when he was in the tavern.

Was he feeling as anxious as she was? Cassandra asked herself. She had butterflies in her stomach as well, as the saying went, though she thought the ones in her right now were the size of pigeons. It was the first time she would be alone with a man, and she was rightly nervous, clammy hands and palpitations and all. Why, she hasn’t been alone with a man since… no, it was better not to dwell on such things anymore. She was living in a new city now, having a new life! And right now, with a comely young man by her side! Perhaps he could give her a better life as well…

Cassandra noticed that they were merely meandering on their way, without a clear destination. Certainly, the path they were taking did not lead to the exit leading to the courtyard. Weren’t they supposed to be taking a slow, romantic walk in the moonlit streets, a perfect segue to what may lead after?

“Markain?” Her voice was soft and soothing. If translated to the sense of touch, it would have been like the feel of satin on skin. The man turned to her, half jumping as if disturbed from a reverie. “Would you mind so much if we took a walk outside? I haven’t had fresh air since… I can’t even remember.” It was true too. If she wasn’t working, she was locked at home with her sickly mother.

Her words, or perhaps her voice, had an invigorating effect on the man. He drew closer, one arm sliding down behind her to cradle her by the waist, the other reaching down to hold her nearest hand. Bold and confident, his actions were somewhat surprising for the young woman. She blushed, but she didn’t withdraw her hand from his. It felt good, it being there.

“A walk… yes, of course,” Markain answered graciously. He led her to the castle exit, their hands clasped together. They were much more intimate now, as Cassandra leaned on him as they walked. She could feel his warmth, almost hear his heartbeat as she felt the pulse on his wrist throb against hers. It was slightly faster than normal, almost like hers yet nowhere near it, for her heart was pounding.

The cobbled streets of the courtyard outside shone silver, reflecting Leth’s pale light. The couple’s steps were different now as they walked: Cassandra’s seemed filled with purpose, Markain’s nonchalant, as if he didn’t care where the girl led the both of them. That soon changed when he realized their destination.

“We’re going to Kova’s Well?” he asked, slightly agitated.

[Cassandra Coven]

“Why, yes,” Cassandra admitted, slightly startled at Markain’s reaction. She paused for a moment and peered at the young man, noting his unease. A teasing smile blossomed from her lips as she gave him a slight nudge. “Come now, you don’t believe those rumors about the ghost that haunts it, do you?”

“Of-of course not! It’s just…” Markain stammered, his normally controlled voice coming out discordant in his discomfiture. “It’s just weird, is what it is,” he finished lamely.

“Well, I’m glad I’m with you. I know you’ll keep me safe if there’s any evil in that place,” Cassandra soothed. She clung to his arm and snuggled closer, leaning her head upon his shoulder. The man seemed to puff up at the stroke on his ego, chest unconsciously thrust out and arms stiffening to let the pretty young lady beside him feel the strength his bicep. If done by any other, Cassandra would have found it comical, but with Markain, she thought it would just be one of the man’s many quirks she would grow to love.

They resumed their stroll, each sharing the other's body heat in the cool evening air, taking comfort in each other's nearness. Eventually they reached their destination, the stone well illuminated by Leth's pale light. There was no one around, not even the shadow of a ghost, their earlier worries unfounded. Markain still kept back however, as Cassandra came forward, eagerly digging in her purse for a miza. She pulled out a gold one, a fortune for her already. The money could have better served her saved for later to buy more important things but, like with most youths under the heady influence of infatuation, Cassandra did not mind tossing it in the waters of the well – anything to achieve love. It was a foolish notion she knew, but she hoped that the higher value of the gold miza would up her chances at netting herself a new love, and perhaps a new life! She just wished Markain could've come along with her, held her hand even, to deliver her wish, but that was all right, she would just make the wish for both of them.

As she came upon the lip of the well, she peered down. The waters could not be seen from her vantage point; it was too low for the moon's glow to reach it. Cassandra did not need to see it to know it was there however, much the same as her faith in knowing that Markain's love for her would be true for now and in the future. Did he not give his time to her, made her the center of his universe, whenever he came to the tavern, right after he got off work – every single day? And she tossed her coin into the well's waters, channeling her hopes and aspirations into that one gold miza.

For a new beginning...

There was a soft plop! sound as it hit the surface of the water. Cassandra half expected something to happen, perhaps for that ghost of a woman to show and affirm to her her wishes, but nothing did. Still, the absence of a response did not dull the passion she carried in her heart. While her wish was a prayer she yearned to be granted, she also knew that men and women were meant to create their own destiny. She would just have to create it with Markain and perhaps, along the way, her wish will come to fruition.

[Cassandra Coven]

Cassandra stood unmoving before the well for several moments, hoping against hope for some sign that her wish was heard – and granted. She had yearned so ardently for a new life, a change of her current lot. Why could it not have been like when her father was still alive? Memories of that time still came to her, however faintly. Those were good times, easy and comfortable. Her father’s job earned him a decent wage, which, in turn, allowed Cassandra and her mother to live a life so different from what they had now. There was no backbreaking work back then, no pulling double shifts just to make ends meet, no letting drunk tavern patrons sneak a free feel just to get a decent tip. Her mother had been healthy, not the near-empty shell she was now, and Cassandra – Cassandra was a young girl experiencing the things girls her age enjoyed back then. She went to school, studied music, played with dolls and could have as much sweet cakes as she could provided she was good.

And then her father passed away in some accident in one of his expeditions and everything fell to pieces.

They still had money, they had no shortage of that. Cassandra's father made sure that even if he met his death in some ruins he was exploring for the university, his family would be well taken care of. But her mother did not know what to do with such wealth. She needed a man to give direction to her life, to make her feel complete, to support her as she faltered in life after losing her husband. Such a man came into their lives just a few days upon receiving the tragic news of Sir Coven's death, introducing himself as one of the man's associates. He did not immediately woo Cassandra's mother of course. The woman was broken and grieving upon the loss of her spouse; she wasn't looking for romance. But he knew exactly what she needed: the comfort, the understanding, he knew well enough to give the right amounts to the woman that she was soon recovered and back on her feet.

Cassandra had never seen her mother so happy and alive as she did those few short months that followed as the attraction between her and the man, Roald was his name, grew. The man knew how to push the woman's buttons, make her laugh, make her do things for him. He was dashing and charming and had a way with words. Initially, Cassandra felt her mother had betrayed the memory of her father for being with this man but her father was hardly home even when he was still alive and it must have been easy to forget him. Looking back at it now, her mother must have received from Roald what she pined for from her husband when he was still alive.

All that happiness was a precursor to almost a decade of violence and abuse from the same man however. Roald had turned out to be a social predator, a scam artist from Sunberth who preyed on vulnerable women using his charm and good looks. Cassandra’s mother must have seemed like the equivalent of a plump sheep to a ravenous wolf to him, with the wealth her late husband had left them and everything. Once the man had wormed his way into the woman’s confidence, he took more and more control of the family’s finances, using it to feed his vices of gambling, drinking and carousing. He did not show his true colors overnight, of course; the change was so gradual that before Cassandra’s mother realized it, Roald had her trapped in his plan to take her money.

Cassandra herself was not spared from the man’s abuses. In her younger years, he would treat her like a servant, threatening her with the cane if she did not obey him. Whenever he returned from his carousing late at night, Roald would create such a ruckus calling his wife (for indeed he married into the family to obtain rights into the Covens’ wealth) as to wake the household. Almost always, it would follow that he would mount his wife in a drunken caricature of love-making as soon as he got his hands on her. Physically weak, the poor woman could not resist and would only insistently tell her daughter to return to her room while the man ravaged her. Such sights left the young girl psychologically scarred that, after the first few times she witnessed it, Cassandra stopped leaving her room whenever Roald arrived home late. That did not prevent her from hearing the sounds her mother and stepfather made in the living room, however. Sounds that progressed from mere grunts and moans to the sounds of fists beating on flesh as time went on. Cassandra was eleven the first time she heard her mother cry out from one of these bouts, and she had rushed out to check what was wrong only to find her mother sporting a black eye and a bloodied lip as a half-naked Roald pounded into her from behind. She had never told her mother, but she started sleeping in the garden shed behind their house ever since then.

As Cassandra hit puberty, her stepfather began to take notice of how she was beginning to look more and more like her mother. It was clear she would surpass her mother in terms of looks and appeal. The early onset of changes in her body did not help matters. She started developing earlier than the other kids her age and Roald took these changes in a different light. He stopped his maltreatment of the girl and actually became nice to her, for a while at least. Bit it was all just for show – he only wanted to make Cassandra into his new plaything. It all started out with ambiguous compliments about her looks, most of it leaning on the perverted side. The words became more blatant and eventually, he laid hands on her, in places where a man’s hand should not go, not without permission, especially not if the hand belonged to someone in a position of trust in a girl’s life. Cassandra, already terrified of the man from the beatings she received from him at a young age and the abuses she beheld of her mother in his hands, could not resist. Especially not after Roald threatened to murder her mother if she ever spoke to anyone of what he did to her. The man raped her eventually. Cassandra endured it all – the threats, the abuse – in silence, though the gods knew she wanted to scream. The trauma of keeping everything in damaged the girl’s mind more than the physical despoilment ever did. She grew more withdrawn than ever, not talking about anything, even to her mother, with whom she had at least a decent relationship before all their problems started.

It took almost two years of bearing everything before Cassandra’s mother discovered what her second husband was doing to her daughter. The woman taught in the nearby university and Roald would always take advantage of her absence by abusing her daughter. But she came home early one day and caught the man imposing his will upon her daughter. Cassandra’s mother went livid, confronting the man right there and then as her daughter, in tears for having to see her own mother witness her shame, tried to salvage what dignity she could by covering herself up with her clothes that lay scattered on the floor. True to his violent nature, Roald replied with a backhand to the face of Cassandra’s mother. The blow shook the girl from her weeping; Cassandra started, intending to fly to her mother’s defense, but she should not have bothered. A knife had come up between the adults’ quarrel. Blood splattered on Cassandra’s tear-streaked face as soon as she turned her head towards her mother. Deep crimson blossomed from Roald’s chest as the knife that was plunged into his heart was pulled out.

Her mother had finally snapped.

After all the years of abuse and maltreatment, from the verbal assaults to the physical ones, Cassandra’s mother had finally had enough when she saw her daughter – her only child – violated by the man she had, once upon a time, hoped to erase the pain she suffered from the passing of her first husband. The abuses had been bearable when it was only just her, but seeing her daughter like that… treated like she had been all those years… Never again would they suffer pain from the hands of Roald.

Cassandra’s mother collapsed on the floor in tears – of vindication? Elation? Insanity? Who was to say? – even before the lifeless body of her second husband did. Cassandra just stared at both, wishing everything would go away, to have a different life than the one she had lived.

And now she was wishing the same thing, only to be in the arms of another. Perhaps Markain would make all the pain go away. The pain she had forever hidden behind her playful, teasing smile.

But there was no answer to her wish. Not from the ghost that was said to haunt this place, not from a god, not from anyone.

She really just had to make her own dreams come true.

[Cassandra Coven]

The walk back to the castle was uneventful, though Markain initiated contact by holding her hand. It only made Cassandra's heart beat a little faster in her chest. Would they share their first kiss tonight, just before she entered her house when he has walked her home? The thought made her blush and she was thankful of Stormhold Castle's dark interior. She could pass it off as a trick of the light if he asked. She had to be coy, of course.

Markain halted her when they were about halfway from her house. There was silence all around them; a patrol had yet to pass along the particular hall they where in. The man cleared his throat, drawing her near as he pulled her hands close to his chest.

"Cassandra," he began. She loved how her name rolled off his tongue. Gazing up to him, she thought he looked uncomfortable. Nervous just as she was, perhaps? What was he going to say? "I actually have something to show you, but I'm not sure if... would it be too much to ask if you could spend just a little more time with me? I have prepared something for you, you see."

The color on Cassandra's cheeks deepened though the man probably could not tell in the torchlight. He had a surprise! For her! "Truly? I guess an hour or so wouldn't hurt," she said shyly. It was true too. She wasn't sure of the time but judging from the position of the moon outside, it was probably midnight. Her mother was sleeping at home. Her being late a couple of hours would not make much different as she started her shift in the afternoon of the next day anyway. "Lead the way, my prince."

Her response boosted the man's confidence once more, as she knew it would. Eagerly, Markain led her through the maze-like halls of the Third Tier, stopping at last in front of an unmarked door in the residential district. If Cassandra had been familiar with the place, she would have realized that they were in an area where most of the apartments were yet unoccupied and thus was lightly patrolled by the knights. In fact, as she looked about with a curious smile on her face, she hardly heard any sound of activity within the immediate area, save for the soft drip-drip-drip sound coming from the well in the middle of the small plaza they were in. A pail, most likely filled with water, sat at its lip, a small crack on its underside causing its contents to seep out.

"Is this house yours?" Cassandra asked Markain as the man pulled out a ring full of keys and tried each of them on the locked door.

Markain seemed embarrassed. "Well, no. The rooms around these parts haven't been leased yet, so I, ah, 'borrowed' this one for tonight. For-for you. Anyway..." The man cleared his throat uncomfortably as he resumed with his attempts at unlocking the door. He did not stop talking however, seeming to stave off his own nervousness with his chatter. "We were the ones who installed the locks for the apartments here for the knights, to be honest. We keep a copy of course, in case the knights lose theirs, though we give them two keys - one for the eventual resident and one for themselves. I-I somewhat had to beg my boss to let me, well, set this one room up for tonight. I hope you like the place. Please, come in. I'll get a torch to light the place up."

There was finally a click and the door opened. It was dark inside, of course, though Cassandra thought she detected the scent of flowers and the faint smell of...roast? Gingerly, she stepped into the darkness and moved to the side to allow Markain to enter with the torch.

[Cassandra Coven]

The darkness enveloped her but for a moment, before the fire Markain brought forth illuminated the chamber. Shadows danced with each sway of the flames of the torch, its light revealing glimpses of a room quite familiar to Cassandra, in dimension at least. The barmaid shared a similar sized one with her mother, though theirs were not as aesthetically designed as the room she was in now. Bouquets of flowers lined the walls at even intervals, framing a large square table in the middle, a meal set for two composed of roasted lamb, freshly baked bread and fruits - simple fare but already lavish for one such as Cassandra. A bottle of wine was set to one side of the table, long stemmed glasses awaiting use. Farther back, a partition was set to cover the sleeping area, though a glimpse of a wide bed, covered with rose petals, could be seen. Cassandra blushed at the thought of the purpose Markain was intending to use the bed but she did not say anything. She wasn't sure if she was averse to the idea of it or not.

Markain set the torch on a wall sconce, before taking the candelabra from the table and lighting it, fully illuminating the whole place. He closed the door, then took Cassandra by the hand, leading her to the table. "A light repast, perhaps, my lady?" he offered graciously.

Though she wasn't really hungry, Cassandra agreed. She allowed Markain to seat her upon the table, like she had seen off-duty knights do when bringing a lady friend along for a meal in the tavern, tucking their chair closer to the table and not sitting themselves until their companion was comfortable. Still playing the host, Markain carved off a generous portion from the roast and set it upon Cassandra's plate.

"Best served with wine, of course," the man commented. He went to his side of the table to pour them both a glass.

Cassandra took that time to sample the food before her, slicing off small bit and popping it into her mouth. The meat was succulent, cooked just right that it was juicy and easy to chew at the same time, though she felt it was spiced a bit too much for her simple tastes. Peering back up, she caught Markain in the act of putting something in his pocket, or perhaps pulling something out. The man must have sensed her eyes upon him, for he smiled at her and smoothly pulling out his kerchief to wipe the lip of one of the wine glasses before coming over and offering it to her.

"Shall we have toast, dear Cassandra?" he asked.

"Oh! What shall we toast about?"

"To life, of course! For it is a wonderful one, to be living it with you. And - perhaps? - love." Markain said the last part with much passion, his eyes gleaming with a different sort of intensity that Cassandra had not yet seen before. He clinked his glass against hers, raising it up in toast and then easily downing its contents in on gulp. Smiling back, Cassandra followed suit.

The wine was strong and, despite making a livelihood serving similar drinks in a tavern, it left the barmaid only wanting to take a sip. But Markain's hand was there, tipping the glass up for her to finish it all up. Cassandra did, with much effort, and her face was a deep crimson when she finally put the glass down. It left her sputtering and coughing, though she smiled once more to Markain to show him that she liked the drink if only for him.

"Oh my!" Cassandra breathed, fanning herself as the fiery liquid spread its warmth across her face and chest. She laughed, wanting to assure Markain that she was not discomforted in any way. "That was a little strong, wasn't it? I think... I think I may need to lie down for a bit. Yes, yes, I think I'll do that."

Cassandra stood up somewhat unsteadily on her feet. The near-instantaneous effect the alcohol had on her surprised her. She looked at Markain questioningly.

"What was in that...?" she slurred.

She move towards him, but her steps were wobbly and she tripped. The ground seemed to rush up to meet her.

[Cassandra Coven]

Markain was there to catch her, his strong arms wrapping around her slender waist. Cassandra thought his hands drifted a little too far up to be anything but proper, but her senses were skewed and her perception fuzzy. A tightness in her chest made her wonder if she was gasping for air, but she found that she was not struggling to breathe. No, large hands were actually squeezing her breasts, quite tightly in fact. It was the source of the uncomfortable sensation.

"Ma...Markain!" Cassandra gasped. "What are you doing?"

Feebly, she tried to push off his grasping hands, but the potency of the drink, not to mention the poison Markain had pour into it while she was not looking, worked against her. Cassandra could no more dislodge the man's hands from her as she could walk straight at the moment. Changing tact, she tried to hit him with the base of her palm, or push him off with it at least, but the world seemed to be spinning and she missed her mark more often than not, and the few times she did him Markain merely batted her attacking arm away.

"Stop it!" she protested. "I'll...I'll scream if you don't!"

No sooner had the words left her lips than the man covered her mouth with his own, kissing her as he had never dared before, rough and forceful, his tongue invading the confines of her mouth like some groteque burrowing creature. Needless to say, it was not the sweet, romantic exchange Cassandra had imagined it to be. As he pulled back from her, Markain's hand shot up to cover her mouth to prevent her from making good her threat of screaming. A single shout from her would have brought the knights at their doorstep.

"Calm down, Cassandra," the man whispered sharply in her ear as he bodily hauled her up and dragged her towards the bed. "You're drunk, you don't know what you're saying. You need to lie down."

Markain dropped her unceremoniously on the bed, before climbing on top of her to straddle her. With the drug warping her perception by the minute, Cassandra could only look up at him in a stupor, her arms unconsciously still trying to ward him off but all too easily swatted aside. Markain worked to loosen the laces of her bodice, occasionally pushing her hands away whenever she tried to interfere.

"I've always wanted to take you, Cassandra," the man was saying, though he was not even looking at her any more, his eyes fully focused on getting her blouse opened, and what lay beneath it once he did so. "Ever since I saw you in that tavern, I knew I just had to get you. You never made it easy for me, you know? I had to have all these arranged by friends. It's not been cheap getting to you, let me tell you that!"

At last he was rewarded with his efforts. Cassandra lay bare before him, her lowcut barmaid's blouse pulled open to reveal her modest bosom. His eyes widened as he beheld the sight. "By the gods, but you're beautiful," he breathed. And then his head descended as he nuzzled her, his hands grasping and groping, his lips seemingly wanting to devour her flesh as he peppered her neck and chest with vicious kisses. Markain's hips bucked on the woman's stomach as his body betrayed his lust for her.

For Cassandra, it was a whole different sensation. While her body tried to comprehend what was happening to her in the present, her mind was slipping into the past. Suddenly, it was her stepfather Roald, running his uncouth mouth over her skin, his rough hands squeezing and pinching her like she was a piece of meat. Cassandra did not want such a thing to happen to her once again. She tried to cry out in protest but all that emerged was an incomprehensible moan. The man atop her only thought she was enjoying his ministrations. As she looked up at him, Markain/Roald pulled off his shirt, a lascivious grin plastered on his face.

I have to get away! Cassandra's mind screamed at her. Not this again! Please, Priskil! Any of the divine listening, please! Not this again!

Markain's lust got the better of him, apparently deciding that it was time to fully take his prize. Thinking that his victim was too wreaked to get away, or even move, he dismounted her to take off his trousers. But Cassandra had been watchful of just that opportunity. With the last remaining strength she had, she threw herself off the bed, hands reaching for the table - anything! - just pull herself away from the man's grasp.

But Markain was quick. He caught her by the arms just as soon as her other hand closed around a wooden object - a handle? It was a knife, the same one used to carve the roast. Markain did not realize she held it as he spun her around. Since it was in the hand farthest from him, he did not see it coming. All he cared about was preventing the barmaid from leaving. She could not leave, not until he had taken what he wanted from her.

Cassandra's hand shot forward reflexively, the knife she clutched easily piercing Markain's bare chest, sliding in so deep that it was only the edge of her hand that stopped its progress. Warm blood spilled on that hand, waking her senses and affording her a moment of clarity. As she stared in horror at what she had just done, Markain, still alive but only barely, began to topple towards her. Cassandra thought that he was still after her and, in her panic, released her hand from the knife's handle to push the man away. her bloodied hand left its imprint on the man's chest as he fell, backwards this time, the bed catching him and affording him a soft resting place to spend his last moments in the world.

"I've killed him!" Cassandra gasped as she sunk to the floor, the drug in her veins finally overcoming her. "By the gods, what have I done?"

As darkness crept into her vision, she thought she saw a woman, with hair so red that it seemed to be the color of the blood that stained her own hands, and with a smile so sharp that it rivaled the keen edge of the weapon she had used to murder Markain.

As her vision faded, Cassandra thought she heard laughter.

-fin-

[Archon]

Illumination of Development Cassandra Coven +4 Seduction +3 Persuasion +2 Brawling +1 Weapon (Knife) Lores: Syliras (Basic), Don't judge a book by its cover, Making your own fate Care to see more? : Seduction experience for the flirting and charming, Persuasion experience for the convincing of Markain and the Tavern owner, Brawling experience for the attempt to fight back, and Weapon (Knife) experience for the killing blow. Notes: An excellent story! I loved reading through this delightfully traumatic event. Thank you for sharing it with me.