Capture [Rodrik]

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The horse beneath her pounded the earth, heavy set hooves drumming the earth at a steady canter. Her dress billowed behind her, the loose and languid garment clinging to her luscious curves like a vice as she willed the horse beneath her. Where? She didn't rightly care. Away from Dorne, away from her father. She didn't hate the man, just his status. She wanted to be free, she had no desire to keep her chains but hadn't the heart to unlock them. It would break the old man's heart. The symbol of their house, hung from banners on the side of her horse, snapping as a rather bitter breeze found them. She should have ripped them off awhile back, but she was so intent to get away she hadn't really thought twice on it.

She regretted that decision now. Soldiers from the North descended upon her like a plague of vermin, surrounding her and the horse. Well... fuck. They cooed to her, whispering foul things and calling her a spy... one that deserved to be punished. if she hadn't been so terrified , she would have laughed at such a notion she couldn't give two shakes about Dorne or this impending war. She did only did what little her father commanded and lived the rest of her life enjoying life's simple pleasures. A spy was one thing she most certainly was not.

"Do you not have your own whores to pray upon? I promise you I am no more exotic than one of them." Her words were bitter, she was screwed and she knew it, they knew it. The horse pranced uneasily, shifting his weight from side to side, but he could do nothing for his rider and they pulled her easily from his back. She screamed and thrashed against their hold, but she was tiny and they had numbers. The ripping of fabric reached her ears and the languid dress slipped to her waist. Terror clutched her heart and she struggled harder, fighting against the seemingly thousands of hands that clawed at her bare flesh. One of them tore a piece of her dress, tying the fabric around her mouth to muffle her cries.

Hands found her chest and fingers pulled at their sensitive peaks. She screamed through the gag and her arms were held down behind her back as another set of hands pulled the dress from her waist, fingers coiled around her hipbones to hold her waist still. Tears spilled from her eyes and she clenched them shut, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Damn them to hell, she would march every man in her father's arsenal to kill these God damned bastards. She screamed kicking someone as they drew close to the junction of her thighs. She would not let them take her willingly, that was for damn sure.

[Rodrik Cerwyn]

Lord Rodrik Cerwyn

Lord Rodrik had been scouting with his mounted men beyond The Crag. It would be too easy for someone to sneak through the forests to keep watch. Days would pass with sign of nothing. Today was coming to an end. The sky was near orange as the sun began to fade into the west. That was when one of his riders came upon him with word of a Southron spy. Rodrik dislike those from the South and he hated spies.

The Lord of House Cerwyn rode with the boy that had given the notice and came upon a small clearing in the trees where half a dozen men had a woman surrounded. As he got close enough to dismount his horse he could see they had taken the liberty to remove her clothes and gag her. During peace, rape was ever a threat for women. In war time it was a thousand times worst. Entire villages had been burned and raped by the Knight, Gregor Clegane. "Do I look like the Mountain-That-Rides!?" he roared as he dropped down from his horse, adorned in his leather and chain with a great cloak draped over his shoulders.

The man standing directly in front of the woman had already lowered his breaches and his prick was half-hard in his hand. He had thought he'd be getting a taste of highborn cunt today. Instead he got a taste of Rodrik's armoured fist as it shattered his face in one brutal motion. With the boy picking up his teeth on the ground the others backed away, leaving the exposed woman standing alone. Lord Rodrik unclasped his own cloak and wrapped it around the woman to protect her modesty and honour.

Lord Rodrik turned on the spot so he was looking at the rider that was still picking up his teeth before driving his boot into the boys gut. "Be thankful I came across you before you shamed yourself or I'd have you gelded." He turned to the others that had been about to join in on the rape, every one of them wondering what was going to happen to them. "Return to camp before I put your faces to memory." They did not take long to pick up their fallen friend and leave with their tails between their legs.

When they were gone and it was just the woman, Rodrik and the lad that had alerted him to what was about to happen he turned back to the woman. "Come, let me return you to my camp and see you fed and clothed." with a gentle hand he tried to guide her towards his horse. Thought he was gentle for now, if this one was a spy he just might make a whore of her yet.

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Eyes narrowed, furious, wild and wickedly frightened, she fought them, squirming incessantly. They snarled and snapped calling her every derogatory name they could think of. She cared little for their words, for men supposedly fighting for the good and just rights of others, there was no honor here. Even if she had been a spy didn't she deserve to at least speak her peace before such judgment was passed? The man before her unbuckled his belt and pulled his prick from his clothes, if she didn't have the gag she would have snarled, her efforts redoubled.

A very furious, very pissed and very booming voice echoed throughout the small clearing and suddenly she could see parts of the forest again as an armored fist collided with the face of one of her would be rapists. She caught a glimpse of her saviors face but saw little else, the tears that blinded her eyes blurred her vision, but she assumed he meant something, at least in these parts, because the soldiers parted like the red sea leaving her abandoned in the clearing. her arms freed, her fingers shot to her face wrenching the gag from her mouth and swiping the tears from her eyes. Something heavy and warm coiled around her and she tugged it tightly too her, feeling violated and grateful all at the same time. She stumbled slightly, legs tangled in the remnants of her dress as she tried to move instinctively towards the man who had prevented her rape. She spoke nothing, waited for him to reprimand the guards.

His words were venomous, fury it seemed was a fearsome thing. he snarled and they scampered away like sewer rats, trembling under the gaze of their superior. All too soon she was left alone with her savior and the young boy who had arrived with him. Her body trembled slightly, the adrenaline leaving her blood stream and her heart rate slowly returning to its normal, steady rhythm. She had moved closer to him, recognizing swiftly that he was the only thing that stood between her and a night of pain she would not be soon to forget.

He guided her gently to his horse and when they reached it, she pulled herself up onto it, adjusting to sit side saddle once he joined her. She would cry no more, she was not some weak prattling creature who would soak in false sorrows for weeks. She glanced up at her savior, committing his face to memory, she owed his a great deal. "I believe thanks are in order, I shudder to think what they would have done to me had you not arrived, I wish I had some way to repay you... my name is Evelette Breaux, might I inquire yours?" Her voice was slightly raspy, her screams had rubbed her larynx raw.

[Rodrik Cerwyn]

The woman covered herself up as best she could in what rags remained of her dress and wrapped the cloak around herself to protect what the rags could not and instantly brought herself close to him for what protection that would offer. She said nothing until he had taken care of his men and they were atop his horse, on route back to the camp that surrounded The Crag.

"I am Lord Rodrik Cerwyn, but save your thanks. I do not know you and if my men had the right of it and you are a spy, you'll shudder to know your fate." Generally he'd just hang a spy, but if she could be made a camp follower then she would. She'd wash dirty clothes by hand during the day and she'd wash cock with her mouth at night. Course forcing a woman to be a whore was probably close enough to rape, so he'd probably just leave the matter to Robb. He had ways of making use of spies but Tywin would not fall for the same tricks twice.

They passed through the forests in good time and came upon the Crag. Thousands of tends surrounded the stronghold. They were an army at rest and they could be be seen as far as the eye could see. When they came upon his tent, Lord Rodrik aided her down, mindful of her state of undress under the cloak and careful to protect her modesty. He ushered her into the tent and pointed to a chair. "Sit, so I can get to the bottom of this." His voice left no room for questions.

[Deleted]

She was a quite creature, for the moment, usually full of piss and vinegar but she understood that now was not the time to bring laughter and light into the air. She was considered a spy, the worst in all of Westeros more than likely but a spy never the less and she would gain no quarter by groveling all over the Lord's pretty cloak. His words were biting and quick to the point and silently she respected him for his sharp bluntness. She hesitated a moment, but drew a swift breath and responded all the same. "No... I shan't, you could have left me to my fate, they would have killed me as soon as they finished with my body, if nothing else you have given me the chance of speech. So for that, thank you." The much, at least, was very true.

She had no doubts that he would make true on his word should she prove herself to be a spy, but she had nothing to hide. She had nothing on her person save for a tiny satchel of coins. Not a piece of parchment, nor any other means of communication adorned her figure... not to mention her horse had pieces of Dorne stamped all upon him. Dorne may not hold the brightest of men, but they weren't that dense. Regardless she fell to silence as they paraded through the encampment, she would have no chance to escape. She was... for lack of a better term, his until he released her.

She was quick to slip into his tent, her state of dress was most uncouth and she had no desire for anyone else to see her body. He followed her swiftly, obviously not in the mood for folly, well that was good at least, he didn't want her life story. Obediently she sat, she had no desire to try his patience, he had given her more grace than she probably deserved, she at least owed him this. "I am no spy, yes I am from Dorne, but I couldn't honestly give two shits about the city, let the damn thing burn for all I care." Her words were bitter, filled with something along the lines of contempt. She hated its walls and its nobles. There was nothing else she could truly say about it. It would come down to him believing her word.

[Rodrik Cerwyn]

They were in the tent and Lord Rodrik was pacing, up and down he went and watching her all the while. He wasn't fully sure what to make of her. "Well speech is all you might get before I hand you over to the King-in-the-North." the woman could end up being hanged yet.

She started to explain herself, saying she cared not for Dorne and it could all burn. "The Dornish are slippery by nature, and by your own admission hold no loyalty. What brings you this far from home and all alone then?" She was lucky to have made it this far, a woman as attractive as she was, riding alone with bandits and deserters hiding in every second bush?

"So come on then! Answers!" if she was false, he wasn't going to give her time to think up something. If she was true she should be able to spit it out quickly enough. Of course its possible she had a story prepared. He'd see if it held up to scrutiny then. Lord Rodrik had stopped his pacing, instead towering above her now, his appearance made broader by the cloak about his shoulders. Intimidation might help get the truth out of her.

[Deleted]

Evelette lounged in the chair, leaning back and trying to look as harmless as possible... which wasn't too hard. She was wearing no substantial clothing, the lords cloak and the thing was so massive it dwarfed her. Aside from two small emeralds dangling from her ears, the woman was quite bare. It didn't take her much to look non-threatening. She sighed softly at his aggression, willing her tongue to still itself. It was an effort and one she had to make a conscious effort to contain. She had always had a nasty habit of biting back. A lady... was not a proper title for her, she swore upon it.

"The Dornish are a deplorable people whom I would rather, with delight might I add, watch burn. My father is Knight fighting in favor for the House Martell, I can't stand them. It's not often that I linger in Dorne, always finding one excuse or another to flee. This time for no good reason at all, just to get away from the God forsaken city... and my father. With the war, they would not think to seek me out in the West, I was going to lay low, vanish in some rural town for a few months maybe even a year... or at least that was the plan until your men decided to rape me."[/b] She snarled a bit at the last part, hatred filtering in through silver eyes. Damn bastards. She sorted through her flustered mind as she tried to drum up something she could say to convince him that she wasn't a spy. It wasn't that hard, she wasn't a spy, she had nothing to hide.

He towered over her and she defiantly glared up at him. She wasn't going to be rude but she wasn't going to cry in the corner either. She chomped down on her tongue to stop the angry lashing out that threatened her vocal cords and instead spoke level and even, trying her absolute best not to snap. "If I was a spy, why in God's name would I be on a horse that carried the banners Dorne? I may be a great many things but completely insipid is not one of them. The few belongings my horse had strapped too it are nothing more than a fair amount of coin and a few changes of clothing. I swear to you on everything I hold dear, I am no spy, nor an enemy. I'm just looking to escape my father." [/b] She could not keep the mild irritation from her tones. She was tired of this rotating ring of questioning. In the end it would come down to whether or not he believed her, nothing she could say or do would change his mind... she could feel the heat of his body and perhaps it was merely the fact that he had saved her life, but begrudgingly she couldn't help but approve of his well developed musculature and the sharp lines that defined his face, perhaps, had they met in a different setting they could have had a bit of fun.

[Rodrik Cerwyn]

The woman certainly appeared to have no love for Dorne and if the banners of a Dornish house upon her horse were a ruse her accent certainly sounded like it could be Dornish. The North had no rivalry with Dorne and Dorne had no reason to fight the North. House Martell might still carry a grudge against the Iron Throne after Rhaegar's wife, but Ned Stark had nothing to do with her passing. "I think you are telling the truth...." he wasn't one hundred percent certain and he had no means of knowing to be sure but his gut told him she was honest and he knew to trust his instinct. It was the doubt that came later that was his foeman.

"Well then....I am afraid I have nothing of a woman's clothes to offer you to replace what the men tore, but I have shirts and trousers of cotton and linen and you are welcome to make yourself decent." the Lord of House Cerwyn stepped over to a chest and pulled it open. He was not a fashionable man and it might not be what a woman of Dorne wore, but it would cover her teats at least. "I shall give you a moment." it would of course not be proper for him to watch so Rodrik took a moment to step outside the tent. It gave him a moment to gaze out towards the camp and survey it all. Everything was in order, but the men would get restless if there wasn't action.