The Crowned Captive

Her gelding snorted with surprise as she yanked his head around and dug her feet into his sides. With a lurch, he took off through the forest the way they had come. Her heart thundered as she clung close to his neck, seeing nothing but leaf litter flying behind them as he galloped. She gave the horse his head and he weaved between the trees with ease, even at such a fast pace. In the distance, faint now, she heard a yell. Rowan had not taken long to clue on, but she had a chance.

The wind clawed her face, burning her eyes as she fled. It was a race, given how easily Rowan could track her. She just needed to keep fast enough to keep ahead of him or lose him along a river.He was far more exhausted than she, he could not keep pace for that long. . All she had to do-

A scream tore from her lips as pain erupted in the back of her thigh. Tears welling in her eyes, she looked down to see an arrow protruding from her leg, blood already seeping from the wound. A wave of nausea hit her as she realised where it had come from. Too slow. She was too slow.

She turned forward again, gasping at the pain as she spurred her horse along. She just had to get away, and she would deal with the arrow later. She wouldn’t bleed out. It hadn’t hit an artery. She healed quicker than humans. She would be fine.

She screamed again, in pure agony, as she felt another impact on her shoulder. Her vision blurred, and she looked down. The arrowhead protruded from her left chest. A wave of nausea washed over her and she teetered, threatening to fall from the horse. She looked forward, trying to lock onto anything to keep her balance. The world spun, sickeningly so, and she desperately clawed at her geldings mane. It spun again as the gelding dodged a tree. And then it wasn’t trunks she was looking at, but the ground.

No sound came from her as the ground crashed into her, driving the air from her lungs. For a sweet second, darkness swallowed her, and there was no pain. Then her eyes opened once more, and she soundlessly screamed. She looked down at her left arm twisted at an odd angle. She tried to move her right to heave herself upright, but it did not obey. Nausea clawed at her then, from the pain and the poison, as she realised she was truly and utterly doomed.

“You stupid bitch,” Rowan spat as he appeared above her, chest heaving and eyes wild. Had she had the ability to move, she would have cowered from the man that stood over her. His hair had come free of its tie, hanging over his face like curtains of flame as he glowered down at her with the fury of a thousand suns. She made to speak, but no sound came from her lips. Her mouth did not move. She was at his mercy.

He looked at her then, assessing her injuries, and dragged a hand over his face before looking away. She wondered how bad she looked, only being able to see her arms and him from this angle. He swallowed, seeming to collect himself, before looking down at her again. His mouth tightened and his jaw clenched as he stood there, simply looking.

“This is going to hurt, a lot,” he said as crouched down next to her. His voice was softer now, nearly tinged with pity, as he rolled her completely onto her right side. If she could have, she would have screamed as the arrow in her leg and chest ground against her flesh, and her broken arm flopped over against her chest. Blinding white pain shot through her, blurring her already wavering vision.

“I am going to fix your arm first,” Rowan began as he positioned her so she would not fall. He tenderly held her left hand then, his eyes fixed on her face. “I have to reposition the bones before I set this, or it will never heal straight. It is going to be agony, but you will keep use of it. Blink twice when you are ready.”

Funnily enough, Morana cared little for maintaining use in the arm anymore with the lashing white pain that burned its way through her body. With no other option and no way to prepare herself, Morana blinked twice. Tears rolled across her face as Rowan nodded at her, and then pulled. Agony sang along her every nerve, and darkness engulfed her.

Morana was not sure how long it took for her mind to come back to her body as Rowan shook her gently, pleading with her to wake up. She opened her eyes and watched him sag with relief, the tightness of his shoulders loosening. The taste of iron coated her mouth, and she wondered if she had bitten her tongue, or if that was even possible. Her breathing rattled in her chest.

“The arrow in your chest is in your lung, Morana,” Rowan explained, his face pained. “I aimed for your arm, but with the horses... It needs to come out. Now. I am going to heal you as I pull it out, but it is going to bleed a lot. I need you to stay conscious in any way you can. Blink twice when you are ready, okay?”

Nausea rolled through Morana’s body. She gave herself a few breaths, thankful that her breathing at least seemed to not be affected by the paralytic. When she was more confident she had a firm hold on the living world, she blinked twice.

Rowan spent no time in dallying before he snapped the arrow in half, the fletched end in his hand. Morana felt her back arch despite having no control over herself as pain wracked through her. Rowan’s eyes fixed on hers then, watching her face intently as he placed one hand on her chest, grabbed the other half of the arrow with the other, and pulled.

A spasm rolled through Morana’s body then, but she focussed on Rowan’s face as the darkness crept around her vision once more. His eyes were alight and his lips moved rapidly as he stared intently at the wound in her chest. Morana felt her chest rattle as the blood filled her lungs. Her chest spasmed again, an attempt at a cough, and Rowan’s eyes flew to hers. His eyes were wide, the whites a clear ring around the iris. Fear crept into her, clawing at her very core. She was going to die. She was going to drown in her own blood, with nobody even caring where she had ended up. She would be left here to rot. She was alone and would be forever. She looked up at Rowan then, sorrow in her eyes. He had been nice, for the most part, since he had kidnapped her. Far nicer than most people had ever been to her. She tried to convey her thanks to him as her chest spasmed again, air struggling to fill her lungs.

“You do not get to die, Morana. Breathe, for the AllMother’s sake. Acheros is not here to take you yet,” Rowan swore as his eyes flashed between her face and where his hands burned against her chest.

She struggled to breathe now, feeling as if her lungs were full of tar, and when she exhaled she felt something thick and sticky in her mouth. She had done so little with her life, spent it so alone, and now the only one who would see her final moments was an elven man more worried about his own hide than her. She prayed then that she could have a better life beyond death. Maybe her Mama would greet her, and she could finally feel a warm embrace once more.

Relief washed over Rowan’s face as the ache in Morana’s chest finally abated. He immediately let go of her chest and leant her over, patting her back as blood seeped from her lips. Her chest spasmed again, and she managed to cough properly this time, bringing a mouthful of blood up. The tears were of relief this time, streaming down her cheeks, as oxygen finally filled her chest. She coughed again, sagging against Rowan once the fit died down, her chest heaving as she finally breathed fully again. They sat like that for a long minute, blood still dribbling from her mouth as Rowan held her against him, his chest rising nearly as rapidly as hers.

“There is one more arrow,” he eventually spoke, his voice seemingly weak. “The one in your leg. I am confident it hasn’t touched any artery, but it is embedded deep. I am going to cut it out, okay, so we can ride again. I don’t have anything for the pain, and you are too weak for me to risk it anyways. As soon as it is out and we are in civilisation, I will get a proper healer for you. You will live through this, understand me?”

He turned her to face him, worry pinging over his face as her head lolled to the side. She felt weak, so so weak, that when she blinked twice her eyelids nearly didn’t move. She stared at him, stealing herself for the pain. The steel of his dagger burned through her as he made precise incisions against the arrowhead, then pulled it out. Her skin tingled as he placed his hand against her thigh. He was there for barely a moment before he pulled away, pale in the face with blood - her blood - smeared over his arms and chest.

He did not pause for a moment longer as he scooped her up and let out a whistle, long and shrill. His mare trotted out of the trees near immediately, lathered in sweat. He held her against him as he grabbed the saddle with one hand and practically vaulted onto the mare before placing her gently in front of him. She sagged against Rowan, unable to do anything else. Enveloped in his scent of spice, she relaxed slightly. She was not dead. Not yet anyway.

“My magic will keep you upright, just relax,” he whispered to her, grabbing the reins with his arms locked around her. “But, I swear to you now, if I ever have to ride you down again, I will aim to kill.”

The little blood Morana still had in her veins chilled as Rowan spurred his mare forward, flying through the trees. She thought she felt a drop of wetness hit her shoulder and wondered if he was crying. She did not relax again, even as her body sagged against her captor.