Thread: Between Love and Hate (Sølvi versus xxplaywithmexx)

The day had passed uneventfully. Solveig was left to stew in her own thoughts and misery for the most part, not even the joy of riding took her mind off the pressing matter at hand. The words she uttered. Their unholy union. It was unacceptable what they had done, what she had said. But now, now she found she had nowhere else to go. They had reached a point of no return. And somewhere, a voice at the back of her mind said that she belonged to none other than her brother. Her mind, her body, her soul. He owned her as much as she owned him, and the thought frightened her beyond belief. She clicked her tongue against her teeth, urging her steed to ride ahead. She had to get away, if only for a little while. Away from the guards and the carriage, away from the fussy servants, away from her unfortunate situation. And for a moment, Solveigs mind went wonderfully blank. Suddenly, she saw no more servants and guards as she rode on, feeling the wind in her hair and on her face, making her eyes tear up, her cheeks flushed, her heart raced as she urged her steed further and further, faster and faster. Her brief moment of joy was short-lived, she knew she could not venture too far. After all.. she was the Princess. The thought almost felt bitter. Foreign. What was a Princess without her Prince? Daycen was to be Prince to someone else.. not to her. She made up her mind then. Things had to end. It had been an infatuation, nothing else. They could not see each other again, not the way they had. They had to go back to their old ways of resentment and hatred. There was no Daycen and Solveig. Even if the marriage with Briannen would be sabotaged by the twins, there would be another suitor for her and for Daycen.. it would never end. She had to harden her heart for what was to come. Daycen was going to fuck other women. He was going to impregnate the bitches. He was going to marry some whore, eventually, and take her as his Queen. And where are you going to be, little Solvi? Youre going to be nothing. The thought stung, but it helped her. She and her brother.. no, she and Daycen, it had to end. With that thought in mind, she galloped back to the party, but as she approached, she noticed something was very, very wrong. It took a moment, a heartbeat to realize what was going on, and then she dug her heels into the spurs and bolted towards the carriage. She saw Daycen from a mile off, she knew it was him, and her eyes widened in horrified surprise as she saw how the arrow in his shoulder and his knee took him down. Faster! Her heels dug in more, her horse whinnying loudly in protest. And then, a cloaked figure approached her brother amidst the chaos. NO! She didnt know what to think. Her brother.. had he been killed? She jumped off her horse when it was cut at the ankles by some bandit scum. Solveig knew how to fight, but she was smaller, she did not have the experience Daycen had. And still she fought, drew the dagger from its sheath, moved and cut her way through, desperate to reach her brother. Her eyes could no longer find the cloaked man, and when her attention focused on the massacre, her murdered servants, guards, she felt a stabbing, searing pain in her left shoulder. She slashed out wildly, her dagger catching a bandits throat, and she watched him, numbly, as he crumbled to the floor. Her hand reached up, touching her shoulder, and almost surprised she drew her hand back, holding it up in front of her. Her fingers came back coated in bright red blood. How deep the wound went, she did not know. Nothing mattered. Nothing but Daycen. Finally, Solveig kneeled down next to her brother, her fingers instantly coming to his nose, feeling for his breathing. A wave of relief hit her. He was alive. Unconscious. Badly wounded. But alive. For now. Her fingers then moved to the arrow on his shoulder. The pain was but a dull throb in her own shoulder, unaware of the wound that was inflicted upon her, adrenaline having taken over her body and senses. Im sorry Dice, this is going to hurt. Gods above please be alright. Her fingers moved more sluggish than she wanted to, but she still snapped the arrow in half, did the same to the arrow at his thigh, before she rolled him over with a low grunt. The arrowheads did not look poisoned, but if she did not remove them, the wounds might get infected. And so, with a quick, almost emotionless movement, she yanked the two arrows from Daycens body. Almost instantly, she tore the sleeves off her riding shirt, moving quickly in order to bind her brothers wounds. By the time she finished the last knot on his thigh, her hands were shaking, and blood streamed freely from the wound of her own shoulder. It coated her left arm, and Solveig sat back. She wore a startled and annoyed look. Her fingers shook. She pushed the fabric of her shirt aside, drenched with her own blood, and cocked her head to the side to peer down. Oh.. shit.. The color drained from her face as she breathed out a shaky laugh. That was not an arrow wound, nor was it a dagger. One of the bandits must have taken a sword to her. Briefly, deliriously, she wondered how the bandit had not taken off her arm. It must have been a miracle on its own. Solveig felt nauseous, instantly, and almost laughed again, almost threw up, the blood drained from her face completely. Well.. at least she did not have to worry about being sent off to the executioner for committing unholy unspeakable deeds. Another laugh threatened to bubble up, desperate, afraid. She looked up then, as if to pray, but she didnt get that far. Instead, her eyes focused and saw Achard, standing not too far away. Her face exploded in a grimace of pain and wonder. Then her eyes flickered to the cloak. He.. he had been the one to knock Daycen unconscious. What was he doing here?! Had he meant to kill her brother? Her lips parted to speak, but her eyes rolled back into their sockets, and Solveig promptly feinted next to her brother. Deaths cold embrace was not far away.