#dark-scape writes

RUBY: Sith Princess

Rey Palpatine is her grandfather's protege and his most dangerous weapon. She's a powerful Sith who will do whatever it takes to defeat the Republic and restore the Empire.

BONE PENDANT: Interrogator

The padawan that Imperial Princess Rey has heard so much about has been captured and someone needs to interrogate him. You know she can take whatever she wants.

TIGER'S EYE: Escape!

Princess Rey thought she and the cute padawan were having such a lovely time until he *ungratefully* slipped out of his restraints and recovered his lightsaber. They had a fun, sexually charged duel, but he got lucky in the end.

BLACK OPAL: Reprimand

When Rey's grandfather summons her after the troublesome padawan escapes, she knows to prepare for the force lightning to fly.

PEARL: Benevolent (?) Princess

Using his disfigurement as an excuse, the Emperor delegates his granddaughter to act as the Empire's figurehead in his stead. The people love their glamorous princess and she's excellent at quelling thoughts of rebellion.

FIRE OPAL: Mustafar

Emperor Palpatine has an important project on Mustafar and sends his granddaughter Rey to check on it. Padawan Ben is tired of the resistance's slow cautious ways and decides to investigate what's going on on Mustafar himself.

GOLD: Papacy AU

As the pope's granddaughter, Reynera Palpatine is a valuable political commodity. Though he would never let his rivals, the Organas, have her, he delights in dangling her in front of the young heir.

SWAROVSKI CRYSTAL: Party4Me

The public thinks Rey is heir to the Palpatine fortune, but she knows grandfather is leaving it all to his protégé Hux. Might as well enjoy the life of luxury while she still can. She parties every night, drinking away her fears of what will be left when her only family is gone.

LABRADORITE: Cyberpunk AU

Rey is determined to finally find out what happened to her parents. All her grandfather ever told her is that they died when she was young. The truth she discovers is worse than she imagined: they never existed. She's the result of a gene splicing experiment.

ROSE GOLD: Grand-patricide

After the sudden death of old King Palpatine, his granddaughter Rey ascends to the throne. Knowing little about the young woman, the resistance sends Luke Skywalker and his apprentice Ben to give their congratulations and get a feel for what kind of ruler she will be.

STAR RUBY: "Supermodel" by Maneskin AU

Rey Palpatine is one of the most famous supermodels of the 90s. Her grandfather uses her to make business connections with the rich and famous, but as long as the cocaine keeps flowing and the rock stars keep calling, she doesn't care what he's up to.

AMBER: Rebel Rival

After defecting, Rey Palpatine finds parental figures in Han & Leia and is greedy for affection from them. Every time Ben Solo receives it easily, she feels more competitive.

Ben just wants his parents to stop embarrassing him in front of the cute new girl who seems to hate him.

ROSE QUARTZ: Prom Deal

Rey knows Ben Solo only asked her to prom to piss off his parents, so she tells him she said yes to piss off her grandfather. If she thinks about how Ben would react to every dress she tries on, that's nobody's business but hers.

ZIRCONIUM: Tron AU

Bellamy had Clarke pinned to the bed and was kissing her thoroughly while she wiggled under him. Her frizzy hair was sparkling in the afternoon sun and stuck to her face with sweat. The Nats were only 3 games under 0.500, his fastball was consistently 100 mph or higher, and this smart, thoughtful, passionate, and gorgeous woman was his girlfriend.

“Bellamy,” she whined. “We need to get ready if we’re going tonight.”

He pulled his face back. “What do you mean ‘if’?”

Clarke smiled gently and stroked his messy curls. “You don’t have to do this. It’s your choice. No one would hold it against you if you change your mind.”

Bellamy rolled over and rested on his back. “I’ve always hated the idea of coming out,” he sighed as Clarke curled up next to him and traced invisible shapes on his chest. “I don’t think anyone should care, but I can’t change the fact that they do. I don’t want the attention, but I don’t want to hide and I don’t want Miller to be alone.”

Clarke hummed and kissed him on the nose. “I know it’s a big decision.”

“Also, I’m not looking forward to pretending to like the food at Murphy’s pretentious plant-based restaurant.”

Clarke snorted. “The Ring is extremely pretentious and has way more algae on the menu than should be allowed, but some of the stuff is good. Plus, Anya and Nyko from Grounders will be working the shift at the bar.”

He rubbed his eyes. “I know, I know. Serving drinks with my name on them. Remind me this is for a good cause.”

She gave him the rundown. “All the profits from Glenn Burke Night are going to AIDS charities and pride month is the perfect time to celebrate Glenn Burke’s contributions to the gay community, baseball, and celebratory hand gestures. Plus, we’re supporting Mackson.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “Mackson?”

“What? They’re celebrities to me, they deserve a celebrity couple name.” She nuzzled into his hair while her leg hooked over his. She was just as easily distracted by his body as he was by hers. Bellamy knew if he let them stay in bed any longer, they wouldn’t make it to the party until early morning hours.

He took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s get showered and dressed.”

==========

Bellamy had everything on but his jacket. He stared at it on the bed.

He didn’t want to make a speech or an instagram post announcing his sexuality. Maya had been the one to come up with the idea for the jacket. For a guy who always said he didn’t want attention for anything except his pitching, it was ostentatious, a spectacle, but he knew it would blend right in at a pride party.

It had the vest from a denim jacket and sleeves from a hoodie colored like the bisexual pride flag. On the back, with a bleach pen “BI THE WAY” was written in Clarke’s artful hand. He’d sewn it together himself. His mother would have been proud. Actually, she would’ve insisted on sewing it herself, but she would’ve been proud of him for wearing it.

It was the first public event both he and Miller would be bringing their partners to, but he knew the reactions they would get would be wildly different. Miller hated attention even more than Bellamy did, but he wanted to rip the bandaid off so he and Jackson could stop sneaking around. If Bellamy coming out could help even just one other person, it was worth it. It wasn’t a burden, it was a gift to be able to stand by his friend’s side like this, take some of the heat.

He put on the jacket and met Clarke at the door. She was dressed all in blue and purple with a pink boa and a Nationals pride hat.

“Ready?” she asked tentatively.

Bellamy pecked her on the lips and then lifted her arm to kiss her tattooed flowers for courage. “Let’s go.”

==========

Bellamy was overwhelmed by the joy that greeted him. The party was in full swing. Miller was smiling shyly tucked under Jackson’s arm. People covered in rainbows welcomed and congratulated him on coming out. A man in a golden sombrero cried, some were clearly high as kites, but everything was joyful.

He took pictures and signed things while Murphy had waiters bring him a never ending procession of small plates to try. Some were even pretty good. Before long, he needed a break from the crowd and begged away to the bar with Clarke.

“Hey Blake, I’ll be with you in just a minute,” the woman behind the bar said.

Clarke hugged him and looked up at him. “How are you doing?”

He held her close and took a minute to really think about it. “I think I’m gonna be okay,” he finally answered.

“We’re introducing a new drink tonight named after your fastball,” Anya said when she came back, setting two purple drinks garnished with rainbow umbrellas in front of them. “It’s called The 100.”

Maybe the emperor and the High Vestal are right. Maybe Ellie’s death will save the city and the only just action is to remove from her the option to damn thousands of people by keeping her in the dark.

The same was said of your Vestal sisters once. Girls you knew from childhood were declared to be unchaste and buried alive. To save the city.

Maybe it was true. Maybe your city would lie in dust if your sisters had not been killed, but nothing had felt holy about standing by and watching it happen.

It will take more than the word of a man to convince you to escort another innocent girl to her death. You cannot help feeling grateful that there is someone putting Ellie first, even if Joel is only one man. He is surely doomed, is he not?

Ellie was full of stories of the lengths he had gone to to keep her alive already. It seemed he had fought off half an army to reach the gates and then he had overpowered the palace guards even while wounded. You remember his appearance when you saw him. He was intimidating and grizzled. He was determined that no man or woman or wound or weariness would part him from the girl’s side until he allowed it. And his body… His body did not have the glamorous, hard look of a man in his youth. Instead he looked… capable. Capable of–

Startling out of your reverie, you realize you have been staring at a large ritual phallus while thinking of the vagabond. Your mouth is salivating and you are lightly stroking your inner thigh far closer to your core than is appropriate here. Luckily no one seems to have noticed and you slip out of the room.

Joel does have a chance to save Ellie and he doesn’t have to do it alone. It is easy to convince the guards to let you out. They are only there to guard the Innocent. You are surprised to find the building surrounded by worshipers. They are praying for the gods to bless the Innocent and save their city. Some have brought tokens of appreciation or offerings. Many are on their knees.

If the vagabond is smart, he is watching the building well disguised. Maybe he is among them. You slowly circle the building, gathering flowers from the steps and touching the hands of the people who reach out. 

You pass the flowers to a Vestal inside and are preparing to leave when another tremor rattles the city. You hear a pot crash to the floor in the temple. Wailing rises up from the crowd. They call out to Neptune, to Vesta, to the Innocent.

Those closest to you press in desperately seeking reassurance. Countless hands are laid on you, some gently tugging at your cloak.

“Will the Innocent be our salvation?” a frail old woman touching your veil asks you. There are tear tracks down her face and a small child clutching at her legs. Guilt and fear lodge in your throat, you can only nod. You wonder how many of them suspect the fate that awaits Ellie, how many doubt the oracle as you do.

A rough hand grasps your bicep from behind and urges you forward. “Let her through,” a deep voice says. From the corner of your eye, it appears to be a guard. The dense crowd parts just enough to let you through with people reaching out on either side to touch your hands.

When you are beyond the crowd, he insists on escorting you to the market. The strength of his grip allows no room for argument.

Once you are out of sight of the temple, the guard suddenly yanks you aside. After pulling you into an alleyway, your assailant swiftly spins you around so your back is against the wall. Before you can think of making a sound, a dagger is pressed to your neck and both of your wrists are held in his other large hand between your nearly touching bodies. “Do not make a sound,” an angry voice whispers.

You are in a shadowed alcove with an old disused fountain. No one is going to see you here.

When your eyes adjust to the darkness, you recognize him: the vagabond. His weathered olive skin is cleaner, but he has the same tousled pepper hair and short beard and his eyes–his eyes are like dark riverstones, polished to a shine by the turbulent waters.

You relax in his grip and he eyes you suspiciously. “You’re one of the snakes who took Ellie. You think I’m gonna let you murder her?”

“I did not know,” you insist. You try your best to keep your voice steady.

“Like hell you didn’t. What did you think was going to happen to her?” he says hoarsely.

“What did you?” you spit back, probably unwisely considering the blade at your throat.

Pain flashes in his eyes. “Tell me how to get her out of the temple.”

“That’s an awful plan. You saw it swarming with guards and worshipers,” you argue.

“I am NOT letting you kill her,” he nearly shouts.

You nervously glance at the road outside the alley, but the only sounds are far away. There’s no one in this part of the city at this time of the day.

You gulp and feel the blade press your skin. “You can still save her. I will help you on the final day of the Ludi Magni.”

He gives you a long look up and down, taking in your stark white clothes and veil and the red and white ribbons in your hair representing your vow to Vesta and your vow of purity.

“I will not sit by and watch another girl be killed because someone says it is the will of the gods,” you say earnestly.

“You want to be my Ariadne and help me slay the minotaur?” he scoffs. “Why should I believe that? How can I trust that a Vestal Virgin will betray her vows to save a girl she just met?” He looks angry, but desperate.

"I did not choose this life, it was chosen for me… What if I were not one?" you whisper and look up at him through your eyelashes.

“Not one?” he asks before understanding dawns on his face. “You’re bluffing,” he growls. “If you think I won’t fuck you, you should know I killed two men today. That does something to a man.”

"I am through with the faith," you say more confidently. “What do I have to stay pure for?”

Your wrists are released, but the dagger stays at your throat. His hand moves up your arm slowly, leaving goosebumps in his wake until he grips your breast roughly like he is trying to shock you.

"I'll dirty you right up, kitten. Make you a whore for my cock, is that what you want?” he says with a leer, but you will not let him scare you into backing down.

You shiver as Joel trails his nose along your jaw until he is buried in the crook of your neck, mouthing eagerly at your skin. The cold blade is still pressed to the other side. You feel a hard, hot shape rubbing against you and you know it is his phallus.

You rest your hand lightly over his. “You have to take me with you.”

He pulls away looking disgruntled at the demand.

“This is not negotiable,” you insist. “They will kill me if you don’t. If you are not going to take me with you, I would rather you just slit my throat than let them bury me alive.”

“Deal,” he says after a moment while his free hand travels down and grips your ass possessively. “But I am gonna ruin you first, just to make sure you don’t change your mind.”

Your chest is heaving in anticipation. You want to feel his flesh sliding against yours. You start to pull up the layers of white fabric that separate you from his touch.

His eyes are locked between your legs as soon as you have the layers pulled all the way up. He looks ravenous.

“Please,” you whimper.

Electricity shoots through you as he strokes a finger down your seam for the first time and smirks. “You can do better than that, pretty girl,” he taunts. You swear you can feel his voice vibrate through your body. 

“Please. Please fuck me, I need it. I need your–your c-cock,” you beg. Your cheeks are on fire at the filthy words.

“Such a good girl,” he says in a patronizing voice. “This pretty cunt is just too empty isn’t it? You’re gonna be such a good little whore for me and I’m gonna take care of you. I’m gonna ruin you for anyone else.”

You swallow thickly. The dagger left his hands at some point but you do not even consider changing course.

He presses a finger into you and it slides in through the wetness that is now dripping down your thighs.

“So fucking tight,” he groans, pumping his finger in and out. “A perfect little cunt begging for its first cock. Should I take my time, stretch you out? Get on my knees and make you cum on my tongue over and over until you’re a pliant perfect ragdoll for me to fuck?”

A whine escapes your lips. You wish he could do all of that and more, but you both know you do not have that kind of time. He adds a second thick finger and your knees start to buckle, but he is holding you up. You put an arm around his neck to steady yourself.

“Oh, I know, I know, baby,” he says with mock sympathy. “It’s just so much for your little cunt.”

The stretch goes to your head like a strong wine and his fingers become more insistent. His thumb circles your sensitive nub and you feel a tension rising in you. You chase it and it feels like you are climbing through the clouds. Your core clenches around his fingers and you bury your face in his shoulder to stifle your moans as you reach the summit and pleasure quakes through your body. His musky scent fills your lungs as you come down.

You are panting hard as you feel Joel frantically pulling up his tunic. Looking down, you see him fishing his member out of his clothes. You draw a sharp breath in at the vision, angry and red, and you cannot imagine how it is going to fit inside of you. Part of you feels afraid, but no part of you wants to stop.

A hand grips your jaw and pushes you until you are leaning against the wall. “I’m gonna watch you while I tear you apart,” he breathes.

His hot length parts your folds and you take a shuddering breath. He slides the head around in your wetness and then notches at your entrance. He slides into you at an almost casual pace. The sounds you make are guttural and foreign. Joel looks pleased with your reaction and he is barely inside of you.

“Shh, you can take it, baby. You were made for this,” he coos.

He reaches up and pulls your veil from your head then takes your crown of braided red and white ribbons and throws it on the ground. You do not even care. Your faith and purity are both gone now.

He encounters resistance but keeps pushing and you let out an embarrassing yelp at the burst of pain. When he is fully sheathed in you, you feel stretched around him, but the pain has eased. It feels like you were always meant to be filled this way. You blink away the tears at the corners of your eyes.

After only a few seconds for you to adjust, he begins moving. He saws in and out of you, gripping your hips and pulling your body to meet his as you get used to the rhythm. You hold onto his biceps and you can feel his strength, his passion. He might could do it, you think, he could win.

He hitches one of your legs over his hip allowing him to reach deeper than you thought was possible. “What does your goddess think of you now, priestess? What will she think of a dirty slut in her temple?” he grunts.

Fear tugs at you, fear that you are wrong, but then you remember all the years you have given up, all the lies the High Vestal has told to hold onto the people’s faith, and all the girls who have died. You thrill at your rebellion with this sinfully attractive vagabond.

“She’s not real,” you say, but somehow it sounds like a prayer.

The corner of Joel’s mouth tugs upward and he picks up the pace. He lifts up the other leg and you lock your ankles behind him so that he is fucking up into you against the wall. It feels like riding a wild horse you cannot control.

“What a brave kitten,” he smirks while snapping his hips. “You’re mine now, little heretic,” he says huskily and then his lips are on yours. With one hand holding your jaw, he plunders your mouth. Your tongue battles with his as you drag your fingers through his wild hair. His rough hand travels down to your breast and tugs at your hard nipple through your clothes. You moan wantonly into his mouth.

You start to feel the same strange rising sensation in your core. Your hands travel all over his rough beard and his sweaty neck and the straining muscles of his shoulders. You feel like you are going to erupt.

“Please, I need more,” you whimper, pulling out of the kiss. “Fuck me harder, make me cum on your dirty cock.”

He growls and nips at your lower lip. “Say you’re mine,” he whispers into your ear.

“I’m yours, only yours,” you gasp out between thrusts.

“What about the gods, priestess?” he taunts, before sucking your earlobe and sending a shiver up your spine.

“Fuck the gods.”

He pounds into you impossibly harder, sweat pouring out of his skin. You fist his hair as you feel him reaching new places inside of you. 

“Cum for me, kitten. Fall apart on my cock,” he commands and then you are cresting the hill. You feel your walls clench around him as if trying to pull him in further. He muffles your shout of pleasure with his own mouth. He thrusts one, two, three more times and then you feel his cock pulsing as he fills you with his spend. You never knew it was possible to feel so full.

He kisses you passionately as you come down from your high and you are too exhausted to do more than limply receive him. You marvel at his raw power and the magnitude of the pleasure he brought you. After he gently sets you on your feet, he gets on his knees and diligently cleans you up with the fabric of his own clothes. His breath is as ragged as yours.

You retrieve your ribbons and veil and arrange your attire.

“Now, my Ariadne,” he says, cupping your jaw with his huge hand. You can still smell your juices on him. “Do you have a plan to save Ellie or not?”

“I do,” you answer confidently, staring into his beautiful riverstone eyes. “Are you as good of a fighter as she says you are?”

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Likes are nice, but comments/tags feed me!

Your eyes linger too long on the tan skin that is revealed by his torn clothing. The muscles of his stomach look hard and defined. Taking in the rest of him, you find strong arms that flex as he grips the hilt of his sword in his belt. His hair is dirty and untamed and peppered with gray matching the patchy scruff on his face. His eyes are dark and bright at the same time as his gaze flickers around himself nervously.

The High Vestal had bristled when told they had rode to the city gate on the same horse and now her gaze rests dissatisfied on his arm around the girl’s shoulder. You had almost forgotten she was there.

“Thank you for bringing the Innocent to her destiny safely in time for the Ludi Magni,” High Vestal Marlene says.

“My name is Aelia, but I prefer Ellie,” she says, sounding uncertain. The vagabond grips her shoulder reassuringly. She looks so small and young by his side. She is breathing hard, they both appear terrified and exhausted.

It is with great difficulty that he is convinced to be parted from her. Marlene thanks him for his service again, but insists that the Innocent must be with only women until the ceremony is complete. He must go to a physician to have his wounds tended to and she promises his reward in gold will be brought to him there.

He nearly growls when Marlene cups the girl’s cheek as she welcomes her.

Marlene narrows her eyes at the vagabond. “I am sure you know that the Innocent will be examined by one of our priestesses. There will be no reward if she is not chaste.”

“I would never,” he says back immediately, glaring daggers through her.

Red spreads up the poor girl’s cheeks. “Gross,” she whispers, staring at the ground.

The vagabond turns her to face him with both hands on her shoulders. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want. You deserve a choice,” he whispers, although he can’t speak low enough to be unheard by the priestesses.

You glance at Marlene nervously. Her eyes widen in alarm, but she says nothing.

The girl sighs and bites her lip. You tend to doubt prophecies from experience, but she looks so innocent and pure indeed. You can understand how the man feels so protective, you already feel a devotion to her. You let yourself hope that the oracle spoke true of the Innocent who would be the salvation of your city.

A small tremor shakes the city. This one is just a whisper of a rumble. No one comments on it, but only exchanges significant glances. In the silence that stretches, the vagabond looks resigned.

“It’s my purpose. I can save people. I want to. After the ceremony, we can go wherever you want to go. Right?” She turns to Marlene.

She smiles without hesitation. “Of course,” she assures both of them.

You feel a knot begin to form in your stomach. The prophecy does not say how the Innocent will save the city, but you were sure she would become a priestess. How can she leave? You know Marlene well, she would not have any qualms about lying in service of the prophecy. Guarding the city is the highest duty of the Vestal Virgins.

“We gladly extend to you the services of the governor’s physician. His talents are known throughout the empire. These guards will escort you to the governor’s palace where you will be an honored guest and richly rewarded,” Marlene says firmly.

Remarkably, the vagabond seems ready to argue with this generous offer. A man of his station could scarcely dream of the veneration and wealth he has earned. That he seems so uninterested only increases your fascination with him.

Before he can say anything, the girl gently removes his hands from her shoulders. “Go. You need a physician. Please, Joel,” she implores.

Finally, they part. You escort the Innocent to your temple where she is cleansed and fed. As she relaxes, she eagerly enjoys the luxuries she’s allowed.

The message from the temple she was raised in warned that she was strong willed and resistant to their attempts to refine her manners and you can see it’s true. She giggles at the many phalluses in the temple for both decoration and rituals. Some of the Vestals tut at the messy way she eats figs and honey and the jokes she tells befitting the walls of a latrine, but you find her spirit endlessly endearing.

She tells many stories from her journey to the city extolling the vagabond’s bravery. You do not have an answer when she asks when she can see him again. She calls him “Joel” which must be short for something. Her fondness for him is like that of a daughter which you know is special for her.

She matches the Innocent of the prophecy nearly perfectly. She was a foundling abandoned at the small temple in the countryside and raised only by women. The oracle said the Innocent would be a maiden, unknown by any man, found in the wilderness beyond the city draped in vines. A strange mark on her forearm looks somewhat like tangled vines. You would hardly say she was draped in them, though, nor would you call the steps of a temple wilderness.

Doubt creeps in again. You have seen how prophecies seem to have endless ability to twist and stretch until they find something that fits them. Even with such flexibility, you have seen some prophecies fail. Of course, the oracle always has excuses.

You wonder if Ellie knows these things. Could her faith and acceptance of her purpose be true if she has never heard them? You know that giving her any reason to reject her role as the Innocent risks earning the ire of the High Vestal. You shudder to imagine what the punishment would be.

If the High Vestal spoke the truth that she could leave after the ceremony then she is not even giving up her future to fulfill the prophecy. You resolve to find out the fate that awaits her before deciding if you will give her warning.

While Ellie is being examined by a few of the Vestals in a private room, you seek out Marlene and ask her about the ceremony and the girl’s future.

She gathers a few other Vestals who have also been chosen to attend to Ellie and accompany her to the ceremony.

“As you know, the oracle’s prophecy did not tell us how the Innocent would be the salvation of our city. With the threat of such great destruction on the horizon I sent word to the emperor asking that he advise me on how to proceed. As pontifex maximus he is the closest to the gods of all in the land,” she says with a grave expression. “A general arrived yesterday bearing the emperor’s response. After consulting with the gods, the emperor has decreed that the Innocent will be sacrificed by the champion of the Ludi Magni.”

An iron grip squeezes your heart and you feel nauseous. “It cannot be,” you murmur.

The High Vestal gives you a reproachful look. “She is a small price to pay to save a city of thousands.”

⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶ ⚶

Joel rejects the draught the physician offers him for pain. Still, his exhaustion overtakes him while he is being treated. When he wakes in the extravagant palace room, the sky outside the window has darkened.

Attendants have come to bathe him so that he can be received by the emperor’s representative and given his reward. He is dressed in finer clothes than his body has ever known, but still not fine enough that he looks like he belongs in a palace. He will always be a commoner to these people.

The governor and another man with the regalia of a general are reclined on sofas drinking wine when he is presented to them. The man’s name is given as General Muncius. He is popular with the people and it is rumored that the emperor resents him for it. He is pale with curly auburn hair and dark beady eyes. His face is boyish, but his expression has the severity of a much older man. 

He sounds like he is barely holding back anger when he says that the emperor sent him here to represent the empire at the Ludi Magni. It might not be the largest city, but Joel cannot make sense of the man’s reaction. Of course, patricians are always contriving ways to slight each other that make little sense to plebs.

Joel is given a seat and wine that probably cost more gold than he makes in a year. It tastes no finer to him. The governor smirks when a small chest of gold is brought to him. They know how much it is to a filthy vagabond compared to what a pittance it must be to them. He does not give them the satisfaction of groveling in gratitude. He locks the chest closed and thanks them shortly.

“If there is anything else you require, simply ask,” the young general says. “I make no promises, but we will try to fulfill your requests. I am sure the governor agrees that mere gold is not enough to repay the debt for what you have done for his city.”

The governor frowns. “Of course, anything you need,” he says tightly.

His thoughts flicker to the beautiful nymph he’d seen among the priestesses Ellie left with. He’d felt her eyes rake over him lewdly despite the virginal white she wore. He could see the swell of her breasts beneath her cloak and imagine the salty taste of her skin. What did he need? He needed release after weeks on the road, fighting off an army worth of threats. He needed to show her something new to worship. Joel brushed off the filthy thoughts. No point in offending his hosts with an impossible request.

“Two fresh horses after the Ludi and food for travel,” Joel answers, watching their reactions closely.

Muncius cocks his head to the side and eyes him critically. “You are staying for the festivities then?” he says carefully. “I worry we will not be blessed with good weather for the Ludi Magni. You might be wise to depart for your next destination as soon as you are able.”

Joel works his jaw back and forth. “After she’s… completed her part in saving the city, I’m going to take Ellie back to the farm my brother works on. I think she’ll like living with other youths her age. A city would be too confining for her.”

Both men still their movements. The room is unnervingly quiet. The governor opens his mouth to say something, but the general barely lifts his hand and silences him.

Muncius rubs his forehead and takes a deep breath before leaning forward and looking the vagabond in the eye. “The girl is not leaving the city. You need to accept that.”

Joel shifts in his seat and his heart speeds up. “I don’t understand. The priestess said we could go after the ceremony.”

“I spoke with High Vestal Marlene this afternoon. She warned that you might be… confused. She does not want to cause the girl any fear.” Dread pools at the bottom of his chest like a sticky black lake. “She will be pampered with the finest comforts until the day of the ceremony. Then she will be given a draught so that Somnus may guide her through the land of dreams until she is sacrificed to appease the gods. She will know no pain or fear, only sleep, I promise you.” His words are firm, but there is sorrow behind them.

Silence stretches between them.

“Find someone else,” Joel whispers, barely able to breathe.

“There is no one else,” Muncius says, beginning to sound exasperated.

Joel startles from his seat and takes a step towards the man. “No, you take me to her. Take me to her RIGHT NOW!” Every muscle in his body is taut as he roars towards the general.

Two guards he had not noticed grip his arms and yank him back. Muncius looks to one of the guards who punches him hard in the stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. “Please,” he whimpers. “You don’t understand.”

“I am certain you did not question what would become of the girl when you were offered gold to deliver her. You have your payment now. The oracle chose her and the emperor decreed her fate after speaking to the gods. I do not have any choice in this.”

Joel narrows his eyes. “I do,” he says coldly. 

“I think it will be best for everyone if you do not stay for the Ludi, vagabond,” the general says as he slowly rises from his sofa. He picks up the small chest of gold and presses it into Joel’s chest before speaking to the guards. “You will escort this man beyond the city gates. Give him a fresh horse, a good sword, and food for travel.” He turns back to Joel. “Our gratitude for what you have done is not without limit, however. You are not to return to this city.”

“Or this province!” the governor says, as if he cannot stand to go so long without speaking.

Muncius gives him an irritated look, but doesn’t dispute him. He sighs, removes a signet ring from his hand, and holds it up. “This ring represents my word. Take it to any general in Hispania and tell him General Muncius recommended you for a decent position. I believe you are a good man which is why I am sparing you from more than you know.” With that he turns to the guards. “Take him now.”

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Joel cooperates perfectly as he is led away from the center of the city. He waits until they are inside the stables to make his move. It is late at night by now and the only other occupants are horses.

Finally, when one of the guards steps away to find the stable boy, he swings the heavy gold chest at the other guard’s head. It knocks him off balance and Joel wrenches his sword from his hand.

The other guard is charging him. He blocks the thrusting blade and parries. The guard is well armored. Joel pushes forward aggressively, earning a slice along his jaw that leaks blood down to stain his fine clothes. When he has pressed the man into a corner and they are too close to swing their swords, he uses his brute strength to disarm the guard.

He presses the man’s own dagger into the gap in the side of the armor with his forearm against his neck. Looking over at the other guard, he sees blood flowing from his head where it landed on the cobblestone.

He turns back to the surviving guard who is fruitlessly trying to pry Joel’s arm away from his chest. “Stop moving,” he says gruffly. His hands drop and he goes still.

Joel lets some of the pressure off his windpipe while digging the dagger in harder. “Where is the girl?”

He shakes his head and speaks with a trembling voice. “I do not–” Joel clamps his hand over his mouth and pierces the skin with the dagger and moves it around. The man groans into his hand.

“I’m going to take my hand away and you’re going to tell me where the girl is or you’re going to learn what real pain feels like,” he growls.

With warning in his eyes, he lifts his fingers one by one and then pulls his hand away.

“She must be at the temple,” the guard says hoarsely. 

“What TEMPLE?!” Joel shouts right into his face. The tendons in his neck are taut, straining against his skin that glistens with sweat and blood. He twists the knife before the man has time to answer.

“The Temple of Vesta!” he cries out. “South of here on the west side of the forum.”

Joel sighs and puts away the dagger. “Thank you.” Just as the guard begins to relax, he snaps his neck.

After paying the stable boy who had watched everything generously to stay in the hayloft until daylight, Joel changes into guard’s clothes and armor then covers himself with a blanket for the horses.

He creeps into the night without a real plan except that he will die before he loses his little girl.

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