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Olena wasn’t sure how she could be close to him like this, not with her past staring them so obviously in the face. Her life had been harsh, and even know that his had, too, it still felt incredibly wrong to need him to hold her. She had spent the majority of her time on her back, legs spread for other men who paid for her company.
And here was Dima, a man who had, at one time, been the only man she ever wanted in her life. They had made promises to each other, had thought that life would be spent creating a home together. Instead, they had been violently separated from each other, the shame of her rape heard by everyone on the ship. When she had tried to pick up the pieces of her dignity, a part of her preferred to think of him as dead. If he was dead, she didn’t have to explain the weeks and weeks of systematic breaking. She didn’t have to explain her time as a concubine, or the loss of a child she had thought she’d wanted.
She certainly didn’t want him to know of her addiction, for the product that numbed her mind and made it easier. It had been weeks since she had opium and the craving was still there.
Once his wound was dressed, she followed him to the bath house, glad they didn’t have to leave the premises. A metal tub and cold water would have been enough, but as she walked into the room, she couldn’t help but think back to her time elsewhere, when rooms like this were common for her. As he lit the fire, she watched him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. There had been a time when they could just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Now, that was gone. He was a mystery to her.
His suggestion at leaving brought a soft laugh to her lips. ”You speak of life together, yet flee at the idea of seeing me naked.” While she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about this, Olena knew that he would see her as she was at some point. If he was going to run, it would be better to be now then when she was more dependent on him.
Pulling the chiton off over her head, she tossed it into the fire, never wanting to see it again. Standing in his line of sight, her own scars were on display. Stretch marks across her flat, malnourished belly showed the signs of a pregnancy, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell him about. Across the front of her legs were thin, even burn marks, old and healed. A brand on her hip, the freshest of wounds, was still red and painful looking. Her back was a maze of jagged lashes, all in various stages of healing. He could make of her scars what he would.
All were signs of a sex slave.
Turning to the water, she said nothing as she carefully stepped in, settling into the warm, blissful water with a sigh. ”Only leave if you do not plan on coming back. I do not wish for you to go.” She told him softly, body now hidden in the ripples of the bath.
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Olena wasn’t sure how she could be close to him like this, not with her past staring them so obviously in the face. Her life had been harsh, and even know that his had, too, it still felt incredibly wrong to need him to hold her. She had spent the majority of her time on her back, legs spread for other men who paid for her company.
And here was Dima, a man who had, at one time, been the only man she ever wanted in her life. They had made promises to each other, had thought that life would be spent creating a home together. Instead, they had been violently separated from each other, the shame of her rape heard by everyone on the ship. When she had tried to pick up the pieces of her dignity, a part of her preferred to think of him as dead. If he was dead, she didn’t have to explain the weeks and weeks of systematic breaking. She didn’t have to explain her time as a concubine, or the loss of a child she had thought she’d wanted.
She certainly didn’t want him to know of her addiction, for the product that numbed her mind and made it easier. It had been weeks since she had opium and the craving was still there.
Once his wound was dressed, she followed him to the bath house, glad they didn’t have to leave the premises. A metal tub and cold water would have been enough, but as she walked into the room, she couldn’t help but think back to her time elsewhere, when rooms like this were common for her. As he lit the fire, she watched him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. There had been a time when they could just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Now, that was gone. He was a mystery to her.
His suggestion at leaving brought a soft laugh to her lips. ”You speak of life together, yet flee at the idea of seeing me naked.” While she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about this, Olena knew that he would see her as she was at some point. If he was going to run, it would be better to be now then when she was more dependent on him.
Pulling the chiton off over her head, she tossed it into the fire, never wanting to see it again. Standing in his line of sight, her own scars were on display. Stretch marks across her flat, malnourished belly showed the signs of a pregnancy, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell him about. Across the front of her legs were thin, even burn marks, old and healed. A brand on her hip, the freshest of wounds, was still red and painful looking. Her back was a maze of jagged lashes, all in various stages of healing. He could make of her scars what he would.
All were signs of a sex slave.
Turning to the water, she said nothing as she carefully stepped in, settling into the warm, blissful water with a sigh. ”Only leave if you do not plan on coming back. I do not wish for you to go.” She told him softly, body now hidden in the ripples of the bath.
Olena wasn’t sure how she could be close to him like this, not with her past staring them so obviously in the face. Her life had been harsh, and even know that his had, too, it still felt incredibly wrong to need him to hold her. She had spent the majority of her time on her back, legs spread for other men who paid for her company.
And here was Dima, a man who had, at one time, been the only man she ever wanted in her life. They had made promises to each other, had thought that life would be spent creating a home together. Instead, they had been violently separated from each other, the shame of her rape heard by everyone on the ship. When she had tried to pick up the pieces of her dignity, a part of her preferred to think of him as dead. If he was dead, she didn’t have to explain the weeks and weeks of systematic breaking. She didn’t have to explain her time as a concubine, or the loss of a child she had thought she’d wanted.
She certainly didn’t want him to know of her addiction, for the product that numbed her mind and made it easier. It had been weeks since she had opium and the craving was still there.
Once his wound was dressed, she followed him to the bath house, glad they didn’t have to leave the premises. A metal tub and cold water would have been enough, but as she walked into the room, she couldn’t help but think back to her time elsewhere, when rooms like this were common for her. As he lit the fire, she watched him, trying to figure out what was going through his mind. There had been a time when they could just look at each other and know what the other was thinking. Now, that was gone. He was a mystery to her.
His suggestion at leaving brought a soft laugh to her lips. ”You speak of life together, yet flee at the idea of seeing me naked.” While she wasn’t exactly sure how she felt about this, Olena knew that he would see her as she was at some point. If he was going to run, it would be better to be now then when she was more dependent on him.
Pulling the chiton off over her head, she tossed it into the fire, never wanting to see it again. Standing in his line of sight, her own scars were on display. Stretch marks across her flat, malnourished belly showed the signs of a pregnancy, one she wasn’t sure she was ready to tell him about. Across the front of her legs were thin, even burn marks, old and healed. A brand on her hip, the freshest of wounds, was still red and painful looking. Her back was a maze of jagged lashes, all in various stages of healing. He could make of her scars what he would.
All were signs of a sex slave.
Turning to the water, she said nothing as she carefully stepped in, settling into the warm, blissful water with a sigh. ”Only leave if you do not plan on coming back. I do not wish for you to go.” She told him softly, body now hidden in the ripples of the bath.
Dima's expression shifted, softening and no longer trying to hide the pain as her tone settled on him. Instead of leaving he remained, silent and still as she removed the chiton and burned it. He wasn't sad to see it go, but the sight of it barely registered as instead her own past came into plain view. Instead of shying away, leaving like he'd offered or at the very least hiding his gaze he kept his focus on her, taking in every scar, the brand, the marks on her stomach. It was something he'd seen only on women who'd borne children and that was the hardest part for him to deal with.
Ever since they were children the plan had been for them to be married. The children she was going to carry were supposed to have been his. Theirs. They were going to raise them on the farm, working the fields and feeding the animals as they had done when they were younger. It was supposed to be idyllic. Like their lives before the raiders came and ruined everything, killing and breaking everything that had been good, taking away the future they had barely had a chance to dream of.
His eyes had closed and when he opened them again she was in the water, her past hurts hidden by the ripples with the light of the flames flickering off of them. From this angle he could see the girl he'd chased into the river so many times before, the same as always before. Dima reached down to untie his sandals, discarding them and walking to the edge to sit, slipping his legs into the water so he could be closer to her.
"I only wanted to give you time. Privacy. I remember how hard that was to find."
Heaving a sigh, he stared down at the water's surface, quiet again as he watched it dance. Age settled over him and in the reflection he saw a face that he was no longer familiar with. There were lines, deep set around his mouth and forehead and his brow seemed perpetually furrowed, eyes that had seen too much and cheeks that were beginning to show stubble since he last shaved. There was nothing he could recognize about the boy he had been, it was no wonder she hadn't known him.
"You didn't recognize me."
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Dima's expression shifted, softening and no longer trying to hide the pain as her tone settled on him. Instead of leaving he remained, silent and still as she removed the chiton and burned it. He wasn't sad to see it go, but the sight of it barely registered as instead her own past came into plain view. Instead of shying away, leaving like he'd offered or at the very least hiding his gaze he kept his focus on her, taking in every scar, the brand, the marks on her stomach. It was something he'd seen only on women who'd borne children and that was the hardest part for him to deal with.
Ever since they were children the plan had been for them to be married. The children she was going to carry were supposed to have been his. Theirs. They were going to raise them on the farm, working the fields and feeding the animals as they had done when they were younger. It was supposed to be idyllic. Like their lives before the raiders came and ruined everything, killing and breaking everything that had been good, taking away the future they had barely had a chance to dream of.
His eyes had closed and when he opened them again she was in the water, her past hurts hidden by the ripples with the light of the flames flickering off of them. From this angle he could see the girl he'd chased into the river so many times before, the same as always before. Dima reached down to untie his sandals, discarding them and walking to the edge to sit, slipping his legs into the water so he could be closer to her.
"I only wanted to give you time. Privacy. I remember how hard that was to find."
Heaving a sigh, he stared down at the water's surface, quiet again as he watched it dance. Age settled over him and in the reflection he saw a face that he was no longer familiar with. There were lines, deep set around his mouth and forehead and his brow seemed perpetually furrowed, eyes that had seen too much and cheeks that were beginning to show stubble since he last shaved. There was nothing he could recognize about the boy he had been, it was no wonder she hadn't known him.
"You didn't recognize me."
Dima's expression shifted, softening and no longer trying to hide the pain as her tone settled on him. Instead of leaving he remained, silent and still as she removed the chiton and burned it. He wasn't sad to see it go, but the sight of it barely registered as instead her own past came into plain view. Instead of shying away, leaving like he'd offered or at the very least hiding his gaze he kept his focus on her, taking in every scar, the brand, the marks on her stomach. It was something he'd seen only on women who'd borne children and that was the hardest part for him to deal with.
Ever since they were children the plan had been for them to be married. The children she was going to carry were supposed to have been his. Theirs. They were going to raise them on the farm, working the fields and feeding the animals as they had done when they were younger. It was supposed to be idyllic. Like their lives before the raiders came and ruined everything, killing and breaking everything that had been good, taking away the future they had barely had a chance to dream of.
His eyes had closed and when he opened them again she was in the water, her past hurts hidden by the ripples with the light of the flames flickering off of them. From this angle he could see the girl he'd chased into the river so many times before, the same as always before. Dima reached down to untie his sandals, discarding them and walking to the edge to sit, slipping his legs into the water so he could be closer to her.
"I only wanted to give you time. Privacy. I remember how hard that was to find."
Heaving a sigh, he stared down at the water's surface, quiet again as he watched it dance. Age settled over him and in the reflection he saw a face that he was no longer familiar with. There were lines, deep set around his mouth and forehead and his brow seemed perpetually furrowed, eyes that had seen too much and cheeks that were beginning to show stubble since he last shaved. There was nothing he could recognize about the boy he had been, it was no wonder she hadn't known him.
"You didn't recognize me."
She was glad that he hadn’t left, that he had done as she had hoped and looked over her body fully. Things that would be hard to tell him were out in the open. And maybe, when they both were ready, she would tell him about her senator. About a man who had shown her kindness in his own way, who had bought her for himself, conceived a child with her, only to die on her.
The child followed shortly after. A child that never drew breath outside the womb.
For now, she was content to just let the warm water lap around her. When he slipped his feet into the pool, she dunked under the water, soaking her matted hair so that she was no longer filthy. Coming back above the surface, she heard his words, and didn’t say anything as she moved closer to him. She claimed a spot between his legs, elbows resting on his knees, head against her own crossed arms. ”Privacy, I had plenty of. Good company was something I longed for.” She let her look her over again, watching his eyes as he searched for the question he wished to ask.
Instead, he spoke of her not recognizing him, a familiar pang in her chest at the hurt that was there. ”Dima, to do what I’ve done over the past lifetime… I thought you dead because it was easier than thinking I betrayed every promise I ever made to you.” She still wasn’t totally sure that this was real. ”When it was bad, when it was good, I would see you. And talk to you. I thought it was your ghost, but it was just my mind escaping, it would seem.” Her fingers drew small patterns in the hair on his legs, wet trails around hard muscles. ”I never could imagine you as a warrior. You were always softer. Rounder, like your father had been. Hair fair lighter. And your eyes were always… gentler. It helped with the pain of not having you.”
She wasn’t ready to tell him about the opium. That she had become addicted because her mind often found him quicker that way.
”I am sorry.”
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She was glad that he hadn’t left, that he had done as she had hoped and looked over her body fully. Things that would be hard to tell him were out in the open. And maybe, when they both were ready, she would tell him about her senator. About a man who had shown her kindness in his own way, who had bought her for himself, conceived a child with her, only to die on her.
The child followed shortly after. A child that never drew breath outside the womb.
For now, she was content to just let the warm water lap around her. When he slipped his feet into the pool, she dunked under the water, soaking her matted hair so that she was no longer filthy. Coming back above the surface, she heard his words, and didn’t say anything as she moved closer to him. She claimed a spot between his legs, elbows resting on his knees, head against her own crossed arms. ”Privacy, I had plenty of. Good company was something I longed for.” She let her look her over again, watching his eyes as he searched for the question he wished to ask.
Instead, he spoke of her not recognizing him, a familiar pang in her chest at the hurt that was there. ”Dima, to do what I’ve done over the past lifetime… I thought you dead because it was easier than thinking I betrayed every promise I ever made to you.” She still wasn’t totally sure that this was real. ”When it was bad, when it was good, I would see you. And talk to you. I thought it was your ghost, but it was just my mind escaping, it would seem.” Her fingers drew small patterns in the hair on his legs, wet trails around hard muscles. ”I never could imagine you as a warrior. You were always softer. Rounder, like your father had been. Hair fair lighter. And your eyes were always… gentler. It helped with the pain of not having you.”
She wasn’t ready to tell him about the opium. That she had become addicted because her mind often found him quicker that way.
”I am sorry.”
She was glad that he hadn’t left, that he had done as she had hoped and looked over her body fully. Things that would be hard to tell him were out in the open. And maybe, when they both were ready, she would tell him about her senator. About a man who had shown her kindness in his own way, who had bought her for himself, conceived a child with her, only to die on her.
The child followed shortly after. A child that never drew breath outside the womb.
For now, she was content to just let the warm water lap around her. When he slipped his feet into the pool, she dunked under the water, soaking her matted hair so that she was no longer filthy. Coming back above the surface, she heard his words, and didn’t say anything as she moved closer to him. She claimed a spot between his legs, elbows resting on his knees, head against her own crossed arms. ”Privacy, I had plenty of. Good company was something I longed for.” She let her look her over again, watching his eyes as he searched for the question he wished to ask.
Instead, he spoke of her not recognizing him, a familiar pang in her chest at the hurt that was there. ”Dima, to do what I’ve done over the past lifetime… I thought you dead because it was easier than thinking I betrayed every promise I ever made to you.” She still wasn’t totally sure that this was real. ”When it was bad, when it was good, I would see you. And talk to you. I thought it was your ghost, but it was just my mind escaping, it would seem.” Her fingers drew small patterns in the hair on his legs, wet trails around hard muscles. ”I never could imagine you as a warrior. You were always softer. Rounder, like your father had been. Hair fair lighter. And your eyes were always… gentler. It helped with the pain of not having you.”
She wasn’t ready to tell him about the opium. That she had become addicted because her mind often found him quicker that way.
”I am sorry.”
A wry chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, looking down to meet her eyes as he spoke. ”I don’t think anyone has considered me good company in a long time.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug and as she propped herself against his legs he reached out to brush a water droplet from her cheek, though his hands with their callouses felt too rough against her skin. ”Though some did occasionally pay for the privilege.”
It was obvious his last word was dripping in sarcasm, a snarl barely contained as he remembered the parties. The women and men who fawned and groped, who all wanted the bragging rights of having had him. It was nowhere near the levels that Olena had been submitted to, he at least had the ability to refuse, to walk away. The gladiator worship that was so rampant in Athenia had always confused and disgusted him. Killing a man in an arena for sport, it was hardly the sort of thing he had ever imagined he would end up doing.
”I only stayed alive because I wanted to find you.”
How different their coping mechanisms and reactions to this trauma were, she had been his only driving hope but for her he needed to be dead. More rage at the men who had taken their past from them bubbled in his chest and on instinct one hand landed over where the long deep scar on his stomach was hidden by his tunic. One day he would find the man responsible. And he would kill him.
”I never imagined me as a warrior either. But life doesn’t give us much choice.” her comment about his eyes stung, to know he was so different from the boy she’d known, the man he wanted to be. Both hands found her cheeks and for a moment he held her gaze, keeping her still to look at her before he finally released her. ”Never apologize. Not now. Everything else? Before this? Forgotten. It doesn’t matter. Only now, and moving on.”
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A wry chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, looking down to meet her eyes as he spoke. ”I don’t think anyone has considered me good company in a long time.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug and as she propped herself against his legs he reached out to brush a water droplet from her cheek, though his hands with their callouses felt too rough against her skin. ”Though some did occasionally pay for the privilege.”
It was obvious his last word was dripping in sarcasm, a snarl barely contained as he remembered the parties. The women and men who fawned and groped, who all wanted the bragging rights of having had him. It was nowhere near the levels that Olena had been submitted to, he at least had the ability to refuse, to walk away. The gladiator worship that was so rampant in Athenia had always confused and disgusted him. Killing a man in an arena for sport, it was hardly the sort of thing he had ever imagined he would end up doing.
”I only stayed alive because I wanted to find you.”
How different their coping mechanisms and reactions to this trauma were, she had been his only driving hope but for her he needed to be dead. More rage at the men who had taken their past from them bubbled in his chest and on instinct one hand landed over where the long deep scar on his stomach was hidden by his tunic. One day he would find the man responsible. And he would kill him.
”I never imagined me as a warrior either. But life doesn’t give us much choice.” her comment about his eyes stung, to know he was so different from the boy she’d known, the man he wanted to be. Both hands found her cheeks and for a moment he held her gaze, keeping her still to look at her before he finally released her. ”Never apologize. Not now. Everything else? Before this? Forgotten. It doesn’t matter. Only now, and moving on.”
A wry chuckle escaped his lips and he shook his head, looking down to meet her eyes as he spoke. ”I don’t think anyone has considered me good company in a long time.” One shoulder lifted in a shrug and as she propped herself against his legs he reached out to brush a water droplet from her cheek, though his hands with their callouses felt too rough against her skin. ”Though some did occasionally pay for the privilege.”
It was obvious his last word was dripping in sarcasm, a snarl barely contained as he remembered the parties. The women and men who fawned and groped, who all wanted the bragging rights of having had him. It was nowhere near the levels that Olena had been submitted to, he at least had the ability to refuse, to walk away. The gladiator worship that was so rampant in Athenia had always confused and disgusted him. Killing a man in an arena for sport, it was hardly the sort of thing he had ever imagined he would end up doing.
”I only stayed alive because I wanted to find you.”
How different their coping mechanisms and reactions to this trauma were, she had been his only driving hope but for her he needed to be dead. More rage at the men who had taken their past from them bubbled in his chest and on instinct one hand landed over where the long deep scar on his stomach was hidden by his tunic. One day he would find the man responsible. And he would kill him.
”I never imagined me as a warrior either. But life doesn’t give us much choice.” her comment about his eyes stung, to know he was so different from the boy she’d known, the man he wanted to be. Both hands found her cheeks and for a moment he held her gaze, keeping her still to look at her before he finally released her. ”Never apologize. Not now. Everything else? Before this? Forgotten. It doesn’t matter. Only now, and moving on.”
Olena enjoyed the deep rumble of his laugh, a timber she hadn’t expected to warm her core like it did. She sighed, her head falling on top of her arm in contentment. ”I always preferred your company. You made me happy then. And I am happy now, too.” it felt weird to say, because only hours before, she had been running for her life. She didn’t want to be happy and yet, here she was.
”Something we never thought we would have in common.” She allowed her feet to touch the bottom, standing now instead of floating. Still, her petite frame only exposed her shoulders. Her hand moved to his face, enjoying the rough feel of his skin against her hand. It was foreign compared to what she knew of him. And she found herself growing more and more interested in the man he had become. ”But no more, right? We will have that in common now, too?” She asked gently, her smile sweet.
She was almost embarrassed by her lack of faith in him. But he had been the love her of life, her soul’s other half. And as she systematically raped, abused and broken down, the idea that he was alive for her to have to think about only made it worse. Because this was a moment she was grateful for, but also one she was dreading. He would learn it all, would know that she’d been bought and sold and whored out. That she had watched her sister die a whore’s death. How could he care for someone who had lived the life she had?
A part of her didn’t want to know what he really thought of her.
She missed his hands the moment he released her. Had he not been injured, she would have pulled him into the water with her. Instead, she rested her head back in his leg. ”Okay. No more. You are real. And, for the time being, I am free.” Her chest felt light saying that. So light that she giggled childishly. ”This is a wealthy home, Dima. Did you suddenly become a rich man?”
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Olena enjoyed the deep rumble of his laugh, a timber she hadn’t expected to warm her core like it did. She sighed, her head falling on top of her arm in contentment. ”I always preferred your company. You made me happy then. And I am happy now, too.” it felt weird to say, because only hours before, she had been running for her life. She didn’t want to be happy and yet, here she was.
”Something we never thought we would have in common.” She allowed her feet to touch the bottom, standing now instead of floating. Still, her petite frame only exposed her shoulders. Her hand moved to his face, enjoying the rough feel of his skin against her hand. It was foreign compared to what she knew of him. And she found herself growing more and more interested in the man he had become. ”But no more, right? We will have that in common now, too?” She asked gently, her smile sweet.
She was almost embarrassed by her lack of faith in him. But he had been the love her of life, her soul’s other half. And as she systematically raped, abused and broken down, the idea that he was alive for her to have to think about only made it worse. Because this was a moment she was grateful for, but also one she was dreading. He would learn it all, would know that she’d been bought and sold and whored out. That she had watched her sister die a whore’s death. How could he care for someone who had lived the life she had?
A part of her didn’t want to know what he really thought of her.
She missed his hands the moment he released her. Had he not been injured, she would have pulled him into the water with her. Instead, she rested her head back in his leg. ”Okay. No more. You are real. And, for the time being, I am free.” Her chest felt light saying that. So light that she giggled childishly. ”This is a wealthy home, Dima. Did you suddenly become a rich man?”
Olena enjoyed the deep rumble of his laugh, a timber she hadn’t expected to warm her core like it did. She sighed, her head falling on top of her arm in contentment. ”I always preferred your company. You made me happy then. And I am happy now, too.” it felt weird to say, because only hours before, she had been running for her life. She didn’t want to be happy and yet, here she was.
”Something we never thought we would have in common.” She allowed her feet to touch the bottom, standing now instead of floating. Still, her petite frame only exposed her shoulders. Her hand moved to his face, enjoying the rough feel of his skin against her hand. It was foreign compared to what she knew of him. And she found herself growing more and more interested in the man he had become. ”But no more, right? We will have that in common now, too?” She asked gently, her smile sweet.
She was almost embarrassed by her lack of faith in him. But he had been the love her of life, her soul’s other half. And as she systematically raped, abused and broken down, the idea that he was alive for her to have to think about only made it worse. Because this was a moment she was grateful for, but also one she was dreading. He would learn it all, would know that she’d been bought and sold and whored out. That she had watched her sister die a whore’s death. How could he care for someone who had lived the life she had?
A part of her didn’t want to know what he really thought of her.
She missed his hands the moment he released her. Had he not been injured, she would have pulled him into the water with her. Instead, she rested her head back in his leg. ”Okay. No more. You are real. And, for the time being, I am free.” Her chest felt light saying that. So light that she giggled childishly. ”This is a wealthy home, Dima. Did you suddenly become a rich man?”
As she stood and touched his cheek, Dima allowed himself to lean fully into her hand, closing his eyes in relief. Every touch between them just affirmed that they were in fact both alive, both here, and not dreaming. He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her palm before opening his eyes and looking back to her with a small smile. No more. Never again would they have to be shared by any other.
”No more. Unless I go back to the arena. Then I have little choice.”
Could he even go back? He had vanished without a trace according to everyone in Athenia, probably assumed dead considering his side job. For a moment he felt guilty, he’d led those men into the fight and then fled without a second thought, left Gaios behind and sent no word. The whereabouts of his former lover though were not what he wanted to ponder with Olena finally returned to him.
”For the time being? Oh no, you are free forever. I’d die before you got taken back. I won’t lose you again.”
His tone was firm and he slid a hand along her hair as she leaned her head against his leg, brushing a thumb against her cheek as he bent to place a kiss on her forehead. It would take his dying breath for him to let her go now. And even then he would try to claw his way out of Hades to get back to protect her.
Laughing again as she asked if he was now rich, he stayed bent over to be close to her, glancing around the fine room before shaking his head.
”No, but I suppose I now work for one. In a way. I fled from Athenia with the Queen and her betrothed, this is his father’s home. As soon as I am able we will return together to the country estate where they are hiding, you will be safe there. Perhaps even maid to a queen if you wish.”
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As she stood and touched his cheek, Dima allowed himself to lean fully into her hand, closing his eyes in relief. Every touch between them just affirmed that they were in fact both alive, both here, and not dreaming. He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her palm before opening his eyes and looking back to her with a small smile. No more. Never again would they have to be shared by any other.
”No more. Unless I go back to the arena. Then I have little choice.”
Could he even go back? He had vanished without a trace according to everyone in Athenia, probably assumed dead considering his side job. For a moment he felt guilty, he’d led those men into the fight and then fled without a second thought, left Gaios behind and sent no word. The whereabouts of his former lover though were not what he wanted to ponder with Olena finally returned to him.
”For the time being? Oh no, you are free forever. I’d die before you got taken back. I won’t lose you again.”
His tone was firm and he slid a hand along her hair as she leaned her head against his leg, brushing a thumb against her cheek as he bent to place a kiss on her forehead. It would take his dying breath for him to let her go now. And even then he would try to claw his way out of Hades to get back to protect her.
Laughing again as she asked if he was now rich, he stayed bent over to be close to her, glancing around the fine room before shaking his head.
”No, but I suppose I now work for one. In a way. I fled from Athenia with the Queen and her betrothed, this is his father’s home. As soon as I am able we will return together to the country estate where they are hiding, you will be safe there. Perhaps even maid to a queen if you wish.”
As she stood and touched his cheek, Dima allowed himself to lean fully into her hand, closing his eyes in relief. Every touch between them just affirmed that they were in fact both alive, both here, and not dreaming. He shook his head, pressing a kiss to her palm before opening his eyes and looking back to her with a small smile. No more. Never again would they have to be shared by any other.
”No more. Unless I go back to the arena. Then I have little choice.”
Could he even go back? He had vanished without a trace according to everyone in Athenia, probably assumed dead considering his side job. For a moment he felt guilty, he’d led those men into the fight and then fled without a second thought, left Gaios behind and sent no word. The whereabouts of his former lover though were not what he wanted to ponder with Olena finally returned to him.
”For the time being? Oh no, you are free forever. I’d die before you got taken back. I won’t lose you again.”
His tone was firm and he slid a hand along her hair as she leaned her head against his leg, brushing a thumb against her cheek as he bent to place a kiss on her forehead. It would take his dying breath for him to let her go now. And even then he would try to claw his way out of Hades to get back to protect her.
Laughing again as she asked if he was now rich, he stayed bent over to be close to her, glancing around the fine room before shaking his head.
”No, but I suppose I now work for one. In a way. I fled from Athenia with the Queen and her betrothed, this is his father’s home. As soon as I am able we will return together to the country estate where they are hiding, you will be safe there. Perhaps even maid to a queen if you wish.”
While they hadn’t outright said anything direct about their past, each had mentioned small hints about it. The brand made her life’s hand obvious. His comment about the arena, combined with the scars on his body, meant that while she had been forced into the life sex slave, he’d spent most of his as a gladiator.
Life had been cruel indeed.
”So you could be forced back into the arena?” She would have thought that if he was here, able to come and go as he pleased, that he was a free man. The last thing she wanted to think about now, with him so close and tangible, was losing him again. For so long, he was dead in her mind to make living easier. But would she be able to survive without him, now that she knew he was alive and well? She stepped closer to him, wishing for… she didn’t know what she wanted.
Him and their meadow-- that was what she wanted.
Her step into him seemed to correspond with his pulling her in to kiss her forehead. It seemed that neither of them could stand the idea of being separated.They had been apart for far too long, had both been through hell and now they were alone and together. Olena sighed softly, further leaning into him to remove any distance that was between them. She was just as anxious at the idea of losing him, could feel panic rising in her chest just at the thought of being without him. She knew she wouldn’t survive without him, couldn’t survive without him now.
As she listened to him, she couldn’t really wrap her head around what he was saying. She had been fairly disconnected from politics, and even when she was in a brothel, more often than not she was too high to care about what was happening in the world around them. She had bounced around far too much in the last 6 months to know exactly what had happened. By the sounds of it, he had found himself in the middle of something very political. Her hands moved upwards, waving a bit to slow him down. ”I am a whore, Dmytros. Certainly not fit to act as a maid to a queen” She stressed, cheeks flushing at the idea of even being in the same room as royalty.
But the idea of being in the country, away from the men who would hunt her down, did bring a bit of calm to her mind.
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While they hadn’t outright said anything direct about their past, each had mentioned small hints about it. The brand made her life’s hand obvious. His comment about the arena, combined with the scars on his body, meant that while she had been forced into the life sex slave, he’d spent most of his as a gladiator.
Life had been cruel indeed.
”So you could be forced back into the arena?” She would have thought that if he was here, able to come and go as he pleased, that he was a free man. The last thing she wanted to think about now, with him so close and tangible, was losing him again. For so long, he was dead in her mind to make living easier. But would she be able to survive without him, now that she knew he was alive and well? She stepped closer to him, wishing for… she didn’t know what she wanted.
Him and their meadow-- that was what she wanted.
Her step into him seemed to correspond with his pulling her in to kiss her forehead. It seemed that neither of them could stand the idea of being separated.They had been apart for far too long, had both been through hell and now they were alone and together. Olena sighed softly, further leaning into him to remove any distance that was between them. She was just as anxious at the idea of losing him, could feel panic rising in her chest just at the thought of being without him. She knew she wouldn’t survive without him, couldn’t survive without him now.
As she listened to him, she couldn’t really wrap her head around what he was saying. She had been fairly disconnected from politics, and even when she was in a brothel, more often than not she was too high to care about what was happening in the world around them. She had bounced around far too much in the last 6 months to know exactly what had happened. By the sounds of it, he had found himself in the middle of something very political. Her hands moved upwards, waving a bit to slow him down. ”I am a whore, Dmytros. Certainly not fit to act as a maid to a queen” She stressed, cheeks flushing at the idea of even being in the same room as royalty.
But the idea of being in the country, away from the men who would hunt her down, did bring a bit of calm to her mind.
While they hadn’t outright said anything direct about their past, each had mentioned small hints about it. The brand made her life’s hand obvious. His comment about the arena, combined with the scars on his body, meant that while she had been forced into the life sex slave, he’d spent most of his as a gladiator.
Life had been cruel indeed.
”So you could be forced back into the arena?” She would have thought that if he was here, able to come and go as he pleased, that he was a free man. The last thing she wanted to think about now, with him so close and tangible, was losing him again. For so long, he was dead in her mind to make living easier. But would she be able to survive without him, now that she knew he was alive and well? She stepped closer to him, wishing for… she didn’t know what she wanted.
Him and their meadow-- that was what she wanted.
Her step into him seemed to correspond with his pulling her in to kiss her forehead. It seemed that neither of them could stand the idea of being separated.They had been apart for far too long, had both been through hell and now they were alone and together. Olena sighed softly, further leaning into him to remove any distance that was between them. She was just as anxious at the idea of losing him, could feel panic rising in her chest just at the thought of being without him. She knew she wouldn’t survive without him, couldn’t survive without him now.
As she listened to him, she couldn’t really wrap her head around what he was saying. She had been fairly disconnected from politics, and even when she was in a brothel, more often than not she was too high to care about what was happening in the world around them. She had bounced around far too much in the last 6 months to know exactly what had happened. By the sounds of it, he had found himself in the middle of something very political. Her hands moved upwards, waving a bit to slow him down. ”I am a whore, Dmytros. Certainly not fit to act as a maid to a queen” She stressed, cheeks flushing at the idea of even being in the same room as royalty.
But the idea of being in the country, away from the men who would hunt her down, did bring a bit of calm to her mind.
”Not forced back, no. But it is the only life I’ve lived. Since I was sixteen, I’ve been fighting. I don’t know what else I would do to support us.”
Plenty of the gladiators had lovers, a few had wives and families. If he had to return to the arena in order to make money to support them, he would do it happily if it meant keeping her away from the life she’d been part of. No one else would hurt her again.
Wrapping his arms around her tightly as she moved closer, he settled his chin on the top of her head and just breathed, trying to reassure them both that all was well. Her waving hands sent him back slightly and he was about to laugh until she called herself a whore. A look of dark rage flickered over his face and he scowled, shaking his head vehemently.
”Never day that again. It may have been what they forced you to be, but you aren’t now and never will be again. No one will touch you unless you ask.”
As if to prove his point, Dima released her and pulled back, standing on the side of the pool before striding to the door. He returned seconds later with a clean chiton and belt provided to him from one of the other maids, a cast off of Lady Dorothea that had not yet been passed out to the others. It was a simple and serviceable piece and though he would have preferred a different shade to bring out her eyes, the dark green would do well with her hair.
”You could serve any queen or princess or lady you wished. Or do whatever you like.” His voice softened as he knelt by the pool once again, setting the garment away from the water. ”We are free, Lena. They can’t control us anymore.”
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”Not forced back, no. But it is the only life I’ve lived. Since I was sixteen, I’ve been fighting. I don’t know what else I would do to support us.”
Plenty of the gladiators had lovers, a few had wives and families. If he had to return to the arena in order to make money to support them, he would do it happily if it meant keeping her away from the life she’d been part of. No one else would hurt her again.
Wrapping his arms around her tightly as she moved closer, he settled his chin on the top of her head and just breathed, trying to reassure them both that all was well. Her waving hands sent him back slightly and he was about to laugh until she called herself a whore. A look of dark rage flickered over his face and he scowled, shaking his head vehemently.
”Never day that again. It may have been what they forced you to be, but you aren’t now and never will be again. No one will touch you unless you ask.”
As if to prove his point, Dima released her and pulled back, standing on the side of the pool before striding to the door. He returned seconds later with a clean chiton and belt provided to him from one of the other maids, a cast off of Lady Dorothea that had not yet been passed out to the others. It was a simple and serviceable piece and though he would have preferred a different shade to bring out her eyes, the dark green would do well with her hair.
”You could serve any queen or princess or lady you wished. Or do whatever you like.” His voice softened as he knelt by the pool once again, setting the garment away from the water. ”We are free, Lena. They can’t control us anymore.”
”Not forced back, no. But it is the only life I’ve lived. Since I was sixteen, I’ve been fighting. I don’t know what else I would do to support us.”
Plenty of the gladiators had lovers, a few had wives and families. If he had to return to the arena in order to make money to support them, he would do it happily if it meant keeping her away from the life she’d been part of. No one else would hurt her again.
Wrapping his arms around her tightly as she moved closer, he settled his chin on the top of her head and just breathed, trying to reassure them both that all was well. Her waving hands sent him back slightly and he was about to laugh until she called herself a whore. A look of dark rage flickered over his face and he scowled, shaking his head vehemently.
”Never day that again. It may have been what they forced you to be, but you aren’t now and never will be again. No one will touch you unless you ask.”
As if to prove his point, Dima released her and pulled back, standing on the side of the pool before striding to the door. He returned seconds later with a clean chiton and belt provided to him from one of the other maids, a cast off of Lady Dorothea that had not yet been passed out to the others. It was a simple and serviceable piece and though he would have preferred a different shade to bring out her eyes, the dark green would do well with her hair.
”You could serve any queen or princess or lady you wished. Or do whatever you like.” His voice softened as he knelt by the pool once again, setting the garment away from the water. ”We are free, Lena. They can’t control us anymore.”
The thought of him heading back into the arena, something familiar to her from her past, sent chills down her spine. Surely there was something else he could do besides kill men for sport. She shook her head, trying to deny the possibility of him going back in, thinking of anything else but that. And then, he admonished her and stood up, mad about what she had called herself.
They couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. That her body hadn’t been at the bidding of those with the coin to afford it. It felt a little odd to hear him saying that he would go into the arena again if need be, but she couldn’t do what would bring them plenty of money to be able to survive. It felt a bit… wrong to her. But he was back at the edge of the pool with a clean chiton and a look she didn’t know if she could place.
This had been why she hadn’t recognized him. She had never known this man, who killed people and fought and ended up with a Queen and her consort. She had never seen him this upset before, but then again, she hadn’t seen him when they had been taken onto that boat. She didn’t know this kind of fire within him. But they had been apart for so long, and both had changed so drastically.
It was going to take a while for her to know this man.
She didn’t want to cower back from him, from his obvious anger at her comment. But she was sure she flinched as he stood. She tried to relax once he came back, still a bit wary of his reaction. But he seemed to soften at his return. So she relaxed, too. ”If a Queen wishes me in her company, then I suppose I shall just have to do what it takes.” She gave him a tentative smile, hoping to put some ease back in his posture. ”I am still good with a needle.” She briefly thought of the wedding quilt she had made all those years ago. It had been kept in a trunk at the foot of her bed back home, waiting to come out and be placed on their marriage bed as a sign of her commitment to him.
All of which burned at the hands of mercenaries.
Suddenly, she felt very small.
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The thought of him heading back into the arena, something familiar to her from her past, sent chills down her spine. Surely there was something else he could do besides kill men for sport. She shook her head, trying to deny the possibility of him going back in, thinking of anything else but that. And then, he admonished her and stood up, mad about what she had called herself.
They couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. That her body hadn’t been at the bidding of those with the coin to afford it. It felt a little odd to hear him saying that he would go into the arena again if need be, but she couldn’t do what would bring them plenty of money to be able to survive. It felt a bit… wrong to her. But he was back at the edge of the pool with a clean chiton and a look she didn’t know if she could place.
This had been why she hadn’t recognized him. She had never known this man, who killed people and fought and ended up with a Queen and her consort. She had never seen him this upset before, but then again, she hadn’t seen him when they had been taken onto that boat. She didn’t know this kind of fire within him. But they had been apart for so long, and both had changed so drastically.
It was going to take a while for her to know this man.
She didn’t want to cower back from him, from his obvious anger at her comment. But she was sure she flinched as he stood. She tried to relax once he came back, still a bit wary of his reaction. But he seemed to soften at his return. So she relaxed, too. ”If a Queen wishes me in her company, then I suppose I shall just have to do what it takes.” She gave him a tentative smile, hoping to put some ease back in his posture. ”I am still good with a needle.” She briefly thought of the wedding quilt she had made all those years ago. It had been kept in a trunk at the foot of her bed back home, waiting to come out and be placed on their marriage bed as a sign of her commitment to him.
All of which burned at the hands of mercenaries.
Suddenly, she felt very small.
The thought of him heading back into the arena, something familiar to her from her past, sent chills down her spine. Surely there was something else he could do besides kill men for sport. She shook her head, trying to deny the possibility of him going back in, thinking of anything else but that. And then, he admonished her and stood up, mad about what she had called herself.
They couldn’t pretend that it hadn’t happened. That her body hadn’t been at the bidding of those with the coin to afford it. It felt a little odd to hear him saying that he would go into the arena again if need be, but she couldn’t do what would bring them plenty of money to be able to survive. It felt a bit… wrong to her. But he was back at the edge of the pool with a clean chiton and a look she didn’t know if she could place.
This had been why she hadn’t recognized him. She had never known this man, who killed people and fought and ended up with a Queen and her consort. She had never seen him this upset before, but then again, she hadn’t seen him when they had been taken onto that boat. She didn’t know this kind of fire within him. But they had been apart for so long, and both had changed so drastically.
It was going to take a while for her to know this man.
She didn’t want to cower back from him, from his obvious anger at her comment. But she was sure she flinched as he stood. She tried to relax once he came back, still a bit wary of his reaction. But he seemed to soften at his return. So she relaxed, too. ”If a Queen wishes me in her company, then I suppose I shall just have to do what it takes.” She gave him a tentative smile, hoping to put some ease back in his posture. ”I am still good with a needle.” She briefly thought of the wedding quilt she had made all those years ago. It had been kept in a trunk at the foot of her bed back home, waiting to come out and be placed on their marriage bed as a sign of her commitment to him.
All of which burned at the hands of mercenaries.
Suddenly, she felt very small.
The way she flinched did not escape him and he paused for a moment at the door in retrieving her chiton, trying to calm himself for her sake. He had to remember who he had been before, the gentle boy who sometimes cried when they had to kill a favorite sheep or a lamb lost to a fox. That boy had died long ago after he’d taken his first life.
She didn’t return to him as easily this time and Dima lifted his uninjured arm to run a hand through his hair. He had to find a way to equalise them. With a grunt and motions that defied his bandages and pain, he stripped away his clothes and slid into the bath across from her, scars and bruises new and old fully on display for her as much as hers had been for him. In water they had become one the first time, perhaps water could heal them again.
”I’m sorry. For frightening you.”
He stayed on his side of the bath, determined not to get too close or appear too threatening. Like the days before when calming and gaining trust of a frightened animal, she had to make the choice to come to him, this new and unknown entity.
”We’re new people now. With new stories.” Pointing to the freshest scar and then others in turn, he gave name to the stories and time he sustained them.
”This, came from our attempt to flee Athenia. I was tricked by one of the queen’s ladies into thinking I was defending her, but in truth we ended up on the wrong side. It’s only luck I managed to get out and find the queen herself. And this….” his fist clenched as he gestured to the one on his stomach, wickedly long and thick for the depth of scar tissue it had required. ”The pirate. From the boat that first night. I tried to kill him. I failed.”
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The way she flinched did not escape him and he paused for a moment at the door in retrieving her chiton, trying to calm himself for her sake. He had to remember who he had been before, the gentle boy who sometimes cried when they had to kill a favorite sheep or a lamb lost to a fox. That boy had died long ago after he’d taken his first life.
She didn’t return to him as easily this time and Dima lifted his uninjured arm to run a hand through his hair. He had to find a way to equalise them. With a grunt and motions that defied his bandages and pain, he stripped away his clothes and slid into the bath across from her, scars and bruises new and old fully on display for her as much as hers had been for him. In water they had become one the first time, perhaps water could heal them again.
”I’m sorry. For frightening you.”
He stayed on his side of the bath, determined not to get too close or appear too threatening. Like the days before when calming and gaining trust of a frightened animal, she had to make the choice to come to him, this new and unknown entity.
”We’re new people now. With new stories.” Pointing to the freshest scar and then others in turn, he gave name to the stories and time he sustained them.
”This, came from our attempt to flee Athenia. I was tricked by one of the queen’s ladies into thinking I was defending her, but in truth we ended up on the wrong side. It’s only luck I managed to get out and find the queen herself. And this….” his fist clenched as he gestured to the one on his stomach, wickedly long and thick for the depth of scar tissue it had required. ”The pirate. From the boat that first night. I tried to kill him. I failed.”
The way she flinched did not escape him and he paused for a moment at the door in retrieving her chiton, trying to calm himself for her sake. He had to remember who he had been before, the gentle boy who sometimes cried when they had to kill a favorite sheep or a lamb lost to a fox. That boy had died long ago after he’d taken his first life.
She didn’t return to him as easily this time and Dima lifted his uninjured arm to run a hand through his hair. He had to find a way to equalise them. With a grunt and motions that defied his bandages and pain, he stripped away his clothes and slid into the bath across from her, scars and bruises new and old fully on display for her as much as hers had been for him. In water they had become one the first time, perhaps water could heal them again.
”I’m sorry. For frightening you.”
He stayed on his side of the bath, determined not to get too close or appear too threatening. Like the days before when calming and gaining trust of a frightened animal, she had to make the choice to come to him, this new and unknown entity.
”We’re new people now. With new stories.” Pointing to the freshest scar and then others in turn, he gave name to the stories and time he sustained them.
”This, came from our attempt to flee Athenia. I was tricked by one of the queen’s ladies into thinking I was defending her, but in truth we ended up on the wrong side. It’s only luck I managed to get out and find the queen herself. And this….” his fist clenched as he gestured to the one on his stomach, wickedly long and thick for the depth of scar tissue it had required. ”The pirate. From the boat that first night. I tried to kill him. I failed.”
She had been trying to focus on anything else, simply because she didn’t want to be afraid of him. This man had once been the center of her future. No matter what else, she had always known that he would be by her side. And it had all come to an end as they watched their village burn, as they became slaves to men who used violence to gain obedience. He had held her heart as his own, and it hadn’t been enough.
But that wasn’t his fault.
He hadn’t been there when she’d been raped that night on the boat. And he hadn’t been at the sale when she’d been shipped off to Egypt. None of this was his fault. And she needed to focus on him.
He wouldn’t harm her.
She missed him stripping down, only hearing the splash of him entering the bath with her. He obviously realizes that she had been a bit afraid of him, and she immediately felt bad that the thought had even crossed her mind. ”I am sorry for being afraid.” She said quickly, allowing him his distance to tell about his wounds. As he pointed out the old scar from the pirate, she softened noticeably. And stepped towards him slowly, to give herself a moment to get used to the size of him.
”Dima…” her hand was slow, but she reached out to trail her fingers along the scar. It should have killed him, and didn’t, and he seemed to be blessed with enough lives to find her once more. ”I was pregnant once. With a man I cared about. He died and the child followed shortly after. His wife sent me back to Egypt, to be sold.” They both had scars, deeper than most. Taking his good hand in hers, she gently moved it to her belly, where deep wrinkles stretched over her thin waistline. ”I am happy to have you back in my life. And I will not blame you if my past is too much…” Perhaps that was the greater fear— that he would learn everything about her and would be so ashamed that he sent her on her way.
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She had been trying to focus on anything else, simply because she didn’t want to be afraid of him. This man had once been the center of her future. No matter what else, she had always known that he would be by her side. And it had all come to an end as they watched their village burn, as they became slaves to men who used violence to gain obedience. He had held her heart as his own, and it hadn’t been enough.
But that wasn’t his fault.
He hadn’t been there when she’d been raped that night on the boat. And he hadn’t been at the sale when she’d been shipped off to Egypt. None of this was his fault. And she needed to focus on him.
He wouldn’t harm her.
She missed him stripping down, only hearing the splash of him entering the bath with her. He obviously realizes that she had been a bit afraid of him, and she immediately felt bad that the thought had even crossed her mind. ”I am sorry for being afraid.” She said quickly, allowing him his distance to tell about his wounds. As he pointed out the old scar from the pirate, she softened noticeably. And stepped towards him slowly, to give herself a moment to get used to the size of him.
”Dima…” her hand was slow, but she reached out to trail her fingers along the scar. It should have killed him, and didn’t, and he seemed to be blessed with enough lives to find her once more. ”I was pregnant once. With a man I cared about. He died and the child followed shortly after. His wife sent me back to Egypt, to be sold.” They both had scars, deeper than most. Taking his good hand in hers, she gently moved it to her belly, where deep wrinkles stretched over her thin waistline. ”I am happy to have you back in my life. And I will not blame you if my past is too much…” Perhaps that was the greater fear— that he would learn everything about her and would be so ashamed that he sent her on her way.
She had been trying to focus on anything else, simply because she didn’t want to be afraid of him. This man had once been the center of her future. No matter what else, she had always known that he would be by her side. And it had all come to an end as they watched their village burn, as they became slaves to men who used violence to gain obedience. He had held her heart as his own, and it hadn’t been enough.
But that wasn’t his fault.
He hadn’t been there when she’d been raped that night on the boat. And he hadn’t been at the sale when she’d been shipped off to Egypt. None of this was his fault. And she needed to focus on him.
He wouldn’t harm her.
She missed him stripping down, only hearing the splash of him entering the bath with her. He obviously realizes that she had been a bit afraid of him, and she immediately felt bad that the thought had even crossed her mind. ”I am sorry for being afraid.” She said quickly, allowing him his distance to tell about his wounds. As he pointed out the old scar from the pirate, she softened noticeably. And stepped towards him slowly, to give herself a moment to get used to the size of him.
”Dima…” her hand was slow, but she reached out to trail her fingers along the scar. It should have killed him, and didn’t, and he seemed to be blessed with enough lives to find her once more. ”I was pregnant once. With a man I cared about. He died and the child followed shortly after. His wife sent me back to Egypt, to be sold.” They both had scars, deeper than most. Taking his good hand in hers, she gently moved it to her belly, where deep wrinkles stretched over her thin waistline. ”I am happy to have you back in my life. And I will not blame you if my past is too much…” Perhaps that was the greater fear— that he would learn everything about her and would be so ashamed that he sent her on her way.
Dima shook his head at her apology, letting her make the choice to move closer to him. Her fingers brushing across the scar that should have been his death were gentle, softer than he had expected though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was expecting still the rougher fingers of the girl he’d known from growing up in the village on their farms, where they both worked and she managed the animals in the fields while he harvested with their fathers.
”Don’t apologize, please. It’s not your fault.”
Her fear was the fault of everyone who had hurt her, those who had let her down and not kept her safe. It was his fault, really. He should have found a way to get her out of there, to flee and hide in the brush until the slavers had left. They would have been saved from so much harm, if only he had been strong enough to break away and hide with her. Their lives would have been so different, and perhaps they wouldn’t have survived, but perhaps they would have. And they would have been free. He had to keep reminding himself that they were free now, but it wasn’t the same. Their bodies and souls had been put through too much in between.
Letting his eyes trail down her body to where her stomach was marked with childbearing, he listened with a jaw that tightened involuntarily at the thought of anyone else touching her. He would have to let that go. It was no doubt due to her beauty and the exotic way she looked compared to the Greeks around them that she would have been much sought after. He couldn’t change the past, only hope that he could protect her in the future. With slow motions so as not to startle her, he let his fingers trace along the lines and softness of her stomach in spite of how thin she was. Never again.
”No, your past will never be too much. Whatever you tell me it doesn’t matter because we’re together again.I don’t want to let you go.” Dima heaved a sigh and met her eyes with his own in a pause before he spoke. ”I killed. I’ve killed so many people. If we can leave those horrors behind us both, if we can just...be. That is all I want.”
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Dima shook his head at her apology, letting her make the choice to move closer to him. Her fingers brushing across the scar that should have been his death were gentle, softer than he had expected though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was expecting still the rougher fingers of the girl he’d known from growing up in the village on their farms, where they both worked and she managed the animals in the fields while he harvested with their fathers.
”Don’t apologize, please. It’s not your fault.”
Her fear was the fault of everyone who had hurt her, those who had let her down and not kept her safe. It was his fault, really. He should have found a way to get her out of there, to flee and hide in the brush until the slavers had left. They would have been saved from so much harm, if only he had been strong enough to break away and hide with her. Their lives would have been so different, and perhaps they wouldn’t have survived, but perhaps they would have. And they would have been free. He had to keep reminding himself that they were free now, but it wasn’t the same. Their bodies and souls had been put through too much in between.
Letting his eyes trail down her body to where her stomach was marked with childbearing, he listened with a jaw that tightened involuntarily at the thought of anyone else touching her. He would have to let that go. It was no doubt due to her beauty and the exotic way she looked compared to the Greeks around them that she would have been much sought after. He couldn’t change the past, only hope that he could protect her in the future. With slow motions so as not to startle her, he let his fingers trace along the lines and softness of her stomach in spite of how thin she was. Never again.
”No, your past will never be too much. Whatever you tell me it doesn’t matter because we’re together again.I don’t want to let you go.” Dima heaved a sigh and met her eyes with his own in a pause before he spoke. ”I killed. I’ve killed so many people. If we can leave those horrors behind us both, if we can just...be. That is all I want.”
Dima shook his head at her apology, letting her make the choice to move closer to him. Her fingers brushing across the scar that should have been his death were gentle, softer than he had expected though he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps he was expecting still the rougher fingers of the girl he’d known from growing up in the village on their farms, where they both worked and she managed the animals in the fields while he harvested with their fathers.
”Don’t apologize, please. It’s not your fault.”
Her fear was the fault of everyone who had hurt her, those who had let her down and not kept her safe. It was his fault, really. He should have found a way to get her out of there, to flee and hide in the brush until the slavers had left. They would have been saved from so much harm, if only he had been strong enough to break away and hide with her. Their lives would have been so different, and perhaps they wouldn’t have survived, but perhaps they would have. And they would have been free. He had to keep reminding himself that they were free now, but it wasn’t the same. Their bodies and souls had been put through too much in between.
Letting his eyes trail down her body to where her stomach was marked with childbearing, he listened with a jaw that tightened involuntarily at the thought of anyone else touching her. He would have to let that go. It was no doubt due to her beauty and the exotic way she looked compared to the Greeks around them that she would have been much sought after. He couldn’t change the past, only hope that he could protect her in the future. With slow motions so as not to startle her, he let his fingers trace along the lines and softness of her stomach in spite of how thin she was. Never again.
”No, your past will never be too much. Whatever you tell me it doesn’t matter because we’re together again.I don’t want to let you go.” Dima heaved a sigh and met her eyes with his own in a pause before he spoke. ”I killed. I’ve killed so many people. If we can leave those horrors behind us both, if we can just...be. That is all I want.”
Men didn’t want to be touched by a woman whose hands were as rough as his own. When they paid for company, they wanted softness, and curves and beauty. Some of the places she’d been in focused on that fact, providing the girls with oils and fragrances to make sure that they were the highest quality of company. Others didn’t care much, barely providing them with baths. Her body was the contradiction of the two methodologies. Skin soft but scarred. Exotic face but rail thin body. She had been nervous to press herself against him, naked and broken, because he would realize just how different she was now. But he was too, and she couldn't help but want to touch him.
His touch on her own skin was light, tracing a few of the lines from baby she never got to hold. Her hand dropped to his, pressing it flat against her flesh. ”The Gods certainly have not been kind to us.” She whispered, moving his hand to her hips. ”But you are right, it does not matter as we are together again. Finally.”
She listened to him talk about what he had to do to survive, and felt her heart shatter for him. ”It would not be fair to those we lost to just forget our pasts. They made us who we are. I cannot go back to the little girl who spun wool with her mother, just as you cannot go back to the boy in the field. But we can at least honor them by being together.” Her other hand slowly, carefully, moved to his cheek again, forcing him to look her in the eyes. ”Perhaps we will learn. And you and I can find peace.”
Maybe he could serve this man, and perhaps they would end up rewarded for their actions with a small slice of land that they could make their own.
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Men didn’t want to be touched by a woman whose hands were as rough as his own. When they paid for company, they wanted softness, and curves and beauty. Some of the places she’d been in focused on that fact, providing the girls with oils and fragrances to make sure that they were the highest quality of company. Others didn’t care much, barely providing them with baths. Her body was the contradiction of the two methodologies. Skin soft but scarred. Exotic face but rail thin body. She had been nervous to press herself against him, naked and broken, because he would realize just how different she was now. But he was too, and she couldn't help but want to touch him.
His touch on her own skin was light, tracing a few of the lines from baby she never got to hold. Her hand dropped to his, pressing it flat against her flesh. ”The Gods certainly have not been kind to us.” She whispered, moving his hand to her hips. ”But you are right, it does not matter as we are together again. Finally.”
She listened to him talk about what he had to do to survive, and felt her heart shatter for him. ”It would not be fair to those we lost to just forget our pasts. They made us who we are. I cannot go back to the little girl who spun wool with her mother, just as you cannot go back to the boy in the field. But we can at least honor them by being together.” Her other hand slowly, carefully, moved to his cheek again, forcing him to look her in the eyes. ”Perhaps we will learn. And you and I can find peace.”
Maybe he could serve this man, and perhaps they would end up rewarded for their actions with a small slice of land that they could make their own.
Men didn’t want to be touched by a woman whose hands were as rough as his own. When they paid for company, they wanted softness, and curves and beauty. Some of the places she’d been in focused on that fact, providing the girls with oils and fragrances to make sure that they were the highest quality of company. Others didn’t care much, barely providing them with baths. Her body was the contradiction of the two methodologies. Skin soft but scarred. Exotic face but rail thin body. She had been nervous to press herself against him, naked and broken, because he would realize just how different she was now. But he was too, and she couldn't help but want to touch him.
His touch on her own skin was light, tracing a few of the lines from baby she never got to hold. Her hand dropped to his, pressing it flat against her flesh. ”The Gods certainly have not been kind to us.” She whispered, moving his hand to her hips. ”But you are right, it does not matter as we are together again. Finally.”
She listened to him talk about what he had to do to survive, and felt her heart shatter for him. ”It would not be fair to those we lost to just forget our pasts. They made us who we are. I cannot go back to the little girl who spun wool with her mother, just as you cannot go back to the boy in the field. But we can at least honor them by being together.” Her other hand slowly, carefully, moved to his cheek again, forcing him to look her in the eyes. ”Perhaps we will learn. And you and I can find peace.”
Maybe he could serve this man, and perhaps they would end up rewarded for their actions with a small slice of land that they could make their own.
Dima nodded in assent, his palm flat against her stomach as she held it there and the other lifting to touch her cheek carefully. He didn’t want to startle or upset her anymore than she had been, so he found himself treating her as if she would run from him at any moment. They couldn’t be those children anymore, but if she could forgive him for his past, he had already forgiven hers. They could go on together.
”For you, anything.”
His words felt as if they echoed through the room, and he removed his hand from her stomach, moving slowly so she could see his intent before he wrapped both arms around her to hug her close. Sinking into the water more so they were on an even level, he tucked his face against her neck and felt the tears he’d been holding back slowly pour forth.
This was what he had been searching for for sixteen years, all he’d wanted back of his old life. No, all he needed back. He wanted everything but that was not ever something that could be returned to him. There were still a few lingering tears on his cheeks when he finally released her and pulled back to meet her gaze.
”We made a promise a long time ago. I’ve always intended to honor it. If you want to wait, I understand, to make sure you can live with who I am, who we are.” Keeping one of her hands in his own he took a deep breath before saying words he’d never hoped to have a chance for again.
”Would you marry me, Lena?”
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Dima nodded in assent, his palm flat against her stomach as she held it there and the other lifting to touch her cheek carefully. He didn’t want to startle or upset her anymore than she had been, so he found himself treating her as if she would run from him at any moment. They couldn’t be those children anymore, but if she could forgive him for his past, he had already forgiven hers. They could go on together.
”For you, anything.”
His words felt as if they echoed through the room, and he removed his hand from her stomach, moving slowly so she could see his intent before he wrapped both arms around her to hug her close. Sinking into the water more so they were on an even level, he tucked his face against her neck and felt the tears he’d been holding back slowly pour forth.
This was what he had been searching for for sixteen years, all he’d wanted back of his old life. No, all he needed back. He wanted everything but that was not ever something that could be returned to him. There were still a few lingering tears on his cheeks when he finally released her and pulled back to meet her gaze.
”We made a promise a long time ago. I’ve always intended to honor it. If you want to wait, I understand, to make sure you can live with who I am, who we are.” Keeping one of her hands in his own he took a deep breath before saying words he’d never hoped to have a chance for again.
”Would you marry me, Lena?”
Dima nodded in assent, his palm flat against her stomach as she held it there and the other lifting to touch her cheek carefully. He didn’t want to startle or upset her anymore than she had been, so he found himself treating her as if she would run from him at any moment. They couldn’t be those children anymore, but if she could forgive him for his past, he had already forgiven hers. They could go on together.
”For you, anything.”
His words felt as if they echoed through the room, and he removed his hand from her stomach, moving slowly so she could see his intent before he wrapped both arms around her to hug her close. Sinking into the water more so they were on an even level, he tucked his face against her neck and felt the tears he’d been holding back slowly pour forth.
This was what he had been searching for for sixteen years, all he’d wanted back of his old life. No, all he needed back. He wanted everything but that was not ever something that could be returned to him. There were still a few lingering tears on his cheeks when he finally released her and pulled back to meet her gaze.
”We made a promise a long time ago. I’ve always intended to honor it. If you want to wait, I understand, to make sure you can live with who I am, who we are.” Keeping one of her hands in his own he took a deep breath before saying words he’d never hoped to have a chance for again.
”Would you marry me, Lena?”
She felt unsure of herself, felt like she didn’t know how one minute she’d gone from a slave who barely escaped from the dangers of being sold to being reunited with the only person that mattered from her youth. Her life had been turned upside down so many times, she felt like it would be pulled out from under her.
She lost her family. Lost him.
Lost her child.
Lost her sister.
Even when her sister had been brought back into her life, she ended up dying, too. How could stop and relax in the idea of him being back, in him wanting her, when so much had been ripped away from her? How could she stop looking over her shoulder, or expecting all of this sudden bliss to come crashing down? It seemed far too impossible to relax in his arms, and yet, the one thing about his touch was this familiar tentativeness of it. It brought her back to their youth, when he had been a bit cautious. His touches had always been feather light, always unsure of the next path to take. She had always been the one to push him for more, to encourage him to push it farther.
To try more.
It was just as sweet as it had been then. But her body had been his then, and only his. Now, she was still a bit unsure as to what her body meant now. It had been touched by so many men, had been paid to do unspeakable things with both men and women. It didn’t feel like it belonged to anyone. How could she let him be with her after that. But maybe, just maybe, that's what she needed. Because he was broken, too. His body was proof that life had been just as rough for him as it had been for her.
His words stopped her heart, breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. And yet, she had wanted that for so long. She wanted stability and a home. There had been a point where she had been close, and then it was gone. Each and every time, her heart broke with it. But they were together again, after everything. Perhaps the Gods were done testing her in that way.
”Dima…” She pushed away from him, pressing her hands into his. ”You made that promise to me when my body belonged to myself, with the full intention of giving it over to you fully.” Why were tears suddenly filling her eyes? ”I am not a virgin, far from it. How can you still want that with me?”
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She felt unsure of herself, felt like she didn’t know how one minute she’d gone from a slave who barely escaped from the dangers of being sold to being reunited with the only person that mattered from her youth. Her life had been turned upside down so many times, she felt like it would be pulled out from under her.
She lost her family. Lost him.
Lost her child.
Lost her sister.
Even when her sister had been brought back into her life, she ended up dying, too. How could stop and relax in the idea of him being back, in him wanting her, when so much had been ripped away from her? How could she stop looking over her shoulder, or expecting all of this sudden bliss to come crashing down? It seemed far too impossible to relax in his arms, and yet, the one thing about his touch was this familiar tentativeness of it. It brought her back to their youth, when he had been a bit cautious. His touches had always been feather light, always unsure of the next path to take. She had always been the one to push him for more, to encourage him to push it farther.
To try more.
It was just as sweet as it had been then. But her body had been his then, and only his. Now, she was still a bit unsure as to what her body meant now. It had been touched by so many men, had been paid to do unspeakable things with both men and women. It didn’t feel like it belonged to anyone. How could she let him be with her after that. But maybe, just maybe, that's what she needed. Because he was broken, too. His body was proof that life had been just as rough for him as it had been for her.
His words stopped her heart, breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. And yet, she had wanted that for so long. She wanted stability and a home. There had been a point where she had been close, and then it was gone. Each and every time, her heart broke with it. But they were together again, after everything. Perhaps the Gods were done testing her in that way.
”Dima…” She pushed away from him, pressing her hands into his. ”You made that promise to me when my body belonged to myself, with the full intention of giving it over to you fully.” Why were tears suddenly filling her eyes? ”I am not a virgin, far from it. How can you still want that with me?”
She felt unsure of herself, felt like she didn’t know how one minute she’d gone from a slave who barely escaped from the dangers of being sold to being reunited with the only person that mattered from her youth. Her life had been turned upside down so many times, she felt like it would be pulled out from under her.
She lost her family. Lost him.
Lost her child.
Lost her sister.
Even when her sister had been brought back into her life, she ended up dying, too. How could stop and relax in the idea of him being back, in him wanting her, when so much had been ripped away from her? How could she stop looking over her shoulder, or expecting all of this sudden bliss to come crashing down? It seemed far too impossible to relax in his arms, and yet, the one thing about his touch was this familiar tentativeness of it. It brought her back to their youth, when he had been a bit cautious. His touches had always been feather light, always unsure of the next path to take. She had always been the one to push him for more, to encourage him to push it farther.
To try more.
It was just as sweet as it had been then. But her body had been his then, and only his. Now, she was still a bit unsure as to what her body meant now. It had been touched by so many men, had been paid to do unspeakable things with both men and women. It didn’t feel like it belonged to anyone. How could she let him be with her after that. But maybe, just maybe, that's what she needed. Because he was broken, too. His body was proof that life had been just as rough for him as it had been for her.
His words stopped her heart, breath catching as she tried to process what he was saying. And yet, she had wanted that for so long. She wanted stability and a home. There had been a point where she had been close, and then it was gone. Each and every time, her heart broke with it. But they were together again, after everything. Perhaps the Gods were done testing her in that way.
”Dima…” She pushed away from him, pressing her hands into his. ”You made that promise to me when my body belonged to myself, with the full intention of giving it over to you fully.” Why were tears suddenly filling her eyes? ”I am not a virgin, far from it. How can you still want that with me?”