The Princess and the Blade

[Soran Nightblade]

"Fuck, they're out behind!"

Heavy boots thudded toward them. An arrow struck the fence just beside Havitharon's head. He took a sideways step, grabbed the top of the fence, and easily used the momentum to swing his legs up. He perched on top for a split second and used the vantage point to try to figure out how many enemies they were dealing with. He counted three men in the yard, possibly another blocked from view by the shed. Worse, he saw two men mounted on large four-legged animals at the entrance to the property. Worse than that, the mounted men saw him too, and began turning their animals back into the street.

Havitharon sighed and jumped down, landing beside Tenara. "I don't supposed you know the city at all?" he muttered to her.

[Emora Deen]

She shook her head. She knew nothing. Absolutely nothing other than it was a black place filled with horrible people. How much of that was true, she didn't know. All she knew was Arken had waged a three hundred years war on everything good, its soldiers had hunted and tortured her parents, and its princes kidnapped her from her home and dragged her across the sea to be sacrificed.

"Let's just run and we'll figure it out," she said, starting off towards the street and reaching for the hood to cover her silver hair. Her hand grasped at her dress, and she stopped short, glancing back at the fence. She didn't have a cloak or a hood. It was all in the shed.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon nodded. "Keep going," he urged, keeping an eye behind them and staying between her and the road where their pursuers had just emerged on horseback. "We need to break away from the road," he called to her as an arrow whizzed past them. They weren't going to beat those things in a foot race.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara grabbed up her skirt and ran, turning sharply when she noticed a street leading into a narrow crowded market area. It would be hard for the horses to follow them here in the crowd. She wove through the thick clusters of people, ignoring the darkening corners of her vision as she plunged forward. Just keep moving. Keep moving. It became a mantra she sang in her head, dancing through the crowd and trying not to lose Thvoros in the process. She spotted an open door into a bar, and hurriedly slipped inside, weaving through the tables towards the back door and what she hoped to be an alley. She was a few feet from the door when someone shouted at her. Another man at a table nearby tried to grab her and she danced out of his reach only to be scooped up by someone else.

Constricting arms tightened around her middle and dragged her down into a chair and a lap.

[Soran Nightblade]

As soon as they entered the safety of the saloon, Havitharon stopped to peer outside and see if they would be followed. It delayed him only a moment, but when he turned to locate Tenara again, she was sitting in some stranger's lap, apparently against her will.

For a moment, he was just confused. It was one thing to hear about the gender reversal here from Tenara, and another to see it put into practice, prey and predator reversed. His first instinct was that he was about to see the woman next to her, perhaps even the other men around them, put this one fool in his place. Their casual cheers brought the truth back into focus. They did not have time for this.

"This one is mine," he warned the man in a low tone. "Remove your hands."

"Doesn't look very 'yours' to me, when she's so relaxed between my legs," the man smirked, sizing him up. Frankly, sizing him up sucked a few decibels out of his next statement. "Surely there's enough of her to go around."

Havitharon abruptly went as still as a predator, the black in his eyes nearly swallowing the gold.

"Don't look so surprised, Havi. Surely there's enough of you to go around," his sister's voice chortled in his ear.

He shook his head to cut the memory short, fury snarling up his focus. He hadn't even felt himself draw out the knife, but its weight was in his hand, tense and ready to strike. He knew they shouldn't draw more attention to themselves than they already had.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara shook her dizzy mind into focus, directing her shaking hands off the arms around her waist and back towards the sword pinned between her and the man holding her. She felt along the fabric wrapped around the blade, found an opening where the fabric had parted enough and she ran her finger painfully along the sharp edge until it sliced to the bone.

A sharp hiss escaped her lips, a beed of red light blooming in her pupils. She felt the pleasurable caress of her magic dance along the wound and up her hand as she brought her palm back down on the one holding her and lit his shirt on fire.

[Soran Nightblade]

The sudden burst of flames was enough of a shock to break Havitharon from the warpath he'd been about to start on. He reflexively dove forward and grabbed Tenara's... non-flame-inducing arm, tugging her away from the now-screaming man. A few loud whoops and shouts went up around the room.

"You sure do pick 'em. Don't fuck with a witch, Harvey! Ahahaha!"

"Bartender, we're gonna need some water over here!" another called across the room, eyes wet from laughing so hard.

"Yah, Harvey's on fire tonight!"

Havitharon looked on, astonished. Apparently, this whole situation passed for a "fun Friday night" at this place. Or maybe the whole city was like this. Then again, from the looks on some faces in the room, a proper bar fight would make just a fun a night, and they'd more or less met the criteria for starting one. "Are you burnt?" he asked Tenara, breaking contact with her immediately once she was on her feet next to him. He had no idea what she'd just done, or how.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara was staring at her hand, watching the tiny spark of power dissipate back to nothing. The pleasurable hum of it resonated through her, and though Thvoros's hand had left her arm she felt his touch like a sweet aftertaste. She tried not to ask for it again, as she'd done in the inn. Then, the feeling of her power melted away again, leaving a slight hollow ache behind.

She lifted her gaze to him and the crowd around them, trying very hard to ignore how the room wobbled in her vision. "I'm fine. Let's keep going." She turned for the back door again, stumbling into the wall as she reached for the handle.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon grimaced. She was clearly not fine. He'd felt it... she'd used that power again, and when she'd been stuck in that man's lap, it seemed like she wanted to struggle, and didn't have the strength.

"Honestly, I don't think she's all that pretty," one of the men gossiped nearby. "Who dyes their hair a color like that, anyway? It's obviously fake."

"Hold it right there," a hand came down firmly on Havitharon's shoulder.... or would have come down, if Havi weren't a head taller than nearly everyone in the room. "Your girl here's got my customers riled up, and she charred up my furniture. The least you could do is have her work here tonight."

"She's not for sale," Havitharon said. ".....Until tomorrow." His thoughts raced, revolted by his emerging plan. "The... Silver Siren can only be had at auction, tomorrow night. Only her true owner can tame her flames."

"Auction where?"

"It's gotta be the Honey Garden, where else?"

"Not like he'd sell her at the Black Rose, haha! She's not at that level."

"She's pretty enough, and she can set stuff on fire! You never know!"

Havitharon pinched his nose and raised his voice. "At the Black Rose."

The room went quiet then.

"Seriously, man? She some kinda royal, or something?" Awkward laughs rewarded the comment.

"You can learn about her at auction. She isn't simply "pretty enough". There's been none like her before and will be none hereafter," Havitharon said. "She'll be sold, unspoiled, to the winning bid."

"Holy shit, Harvey, you tried to mess up a virgin??????"

The man, still teary from the pain of his burns, glowered at them. "I got cash, maybe I will!"

Havitharon couldn't stand it anymore. "Tomorrow, then," he addressed the man before opening the door for Tenara. "Take my arm," he whispered to her.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara felt a churning in her empty stomach at how they spoke of her. She had no idea what the Black Rose was, but she doubted she wanted to be there. She took Thvoros's arm, looping her arm through his and clutching his bicep with her other hand. She clung to him, trying not to stumble as they exited out the back. She was bare foot, she suddenly realized. In all that had happened, she hadn't had time to pull on her borrowed boots before they fled the shed, and the air was cold and her feet sore from running. Her toes scraped against the stones in the street as they entered the alley, her jelly legs barely moving from one foot to the other.

Where were they going to go? Where could they hide for a night? What if the Arken soldiers caught them? Or the men in the bar came after them, deciding to steal what they couldn't afford to buy? What if Thvoros lost his corporealness and she was too weak to fend anything off?

She just wanted to be home. Safe and home.

Just keep moving. It was all she could do.

"We should find someplace to hide for the night," she said, her words a tired hum.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon glanced up. The first signs of dusk were appearing in the sliver of sky above the alley. He considered it a blessing. They both stuck out, and it would be easier to conceal themselves in the dark. On the other hand, there were a lot of things that could go wrong in a place like this in the dark as well. They were both penniless, so paying for a bed wasn't an option. If they slept in some alley, they could be discovered in their sleep. And Tenara did not seem fit for a battle right now. Even if she did, he had yet to see her really fight. He wasn't sure how much skill to expect of her.

He studied their surroundings. "Up there?" he said, gesturing to the rooftop of one of the buildings adjacent to the alley. It appeared to have a flat enough shape to rest on, and was shielded from view. "I can... help you up, if you wish, he added cautiously.

[Emora Deen]

Tenara’s weary gaze followed his gesture to the roof nearby. Better than a back alley, and at least it was a safe place to rest. Better than where her mind had been going when she thought finding a safe place would be impossible without money. She’d started down a terrible road in calculating how they could get money for a room and food when she realized the only thing of value she had was herself.

The idea was like a hand on her shoulder she couldn’t shake off. It was just a body. Right? Rami had sold his for money and he hadn’t seemed unhappy about it…

But now Thvoros had found someplace they could hide and, for now, she didn’t have to suggest it. That was, until the gnawing hunger in her belly decided sex with a stranger for money was better than starvation.

“I might need help,” she admitted, hating the way she needed to rely on him.

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon didn't move to carry her up the rooftop. He went still, analyzing her quietly. They'd been in such a rush that he hadn't noticed. She looked significantly worse off than he'd realized earlier. "No... the roof isn't enough. You need food, and a bed, or you're going to fall ill."

[Emora Deen]

She hated his words, even if she knew they were true. She needed food—more than she needed a warm place to sleep, but a warm place to sleep would do them both good. She would never make it home if she died of starvation and exposure, and Tenara had decided a long time ago she would do anything it took to get home. Anything. Even... She nodded. "We... need money," she said. She tried to think of how to go about it—how much to charge, how long it would last, and who to approach. Her stomach twisted into tight knots. "Let's walk a little more while I think. Can I... hold on to you a bit longer?"

[Soran Nightblade]

Havitharon returned his arm to her in response. He wondered how she felt about the close contact with him, especially after the things he'd just said to those strangers in the tavern. "We'll have to find a new place, other than the ones we've already been to. Since it's a port, there ought to be several inns," he noted as they crept back to the mouth of the alley and checked for any signs of a patrol. He frowned and took stock of their current possessions. "As far as payment, we only have one thing that's of any monetary value." His voice was flat, practical.