The Land Below our Feet COMPLETE

REVOKE

Njál woke up covered in sweat for the third time that week. The dim memories of his taunting nightmare still clinging to his brain, the fact that his rest had been disturbed again by this tedious concern making him furious and putting him in an instant detestable mood.

Feeling restless and with his senses strangely alerted, he had risen, pacing through the dark, spacious hallways with his lately ever-present sour face. The men keeping guard at these hours of the night, doing their best to stay out of his way and avoiding his sight.

He soon reached the dark, almost deserted dungeons and barged in with a crescent anxiety crawling on his skin and making him deeply uncomfortable.

The woman trapped down there had scrambled helplessly all around at the noise of the gate of her cell being opened, his heavy steps approaching the corner where she openly sobbed, begging him for mercy.

But, unfortunately for her, he was not a merciful person… Not anymore.

He had encountered her right after he had erupted in fury and made his men kill everyone left in that goddamn city… Or so he had thought. Until a faint cry had reached his ears as he paced around Mavaer´s outskirts, fuming and panicking about the news he had just received, desperately trying to come up with a way to revoke this whole stupid mess.

The noise had been subtle at first, so vague that he had initially thought that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then, it got louder, and he was instantly drawn to investigate the source of it.

Once on track, it had taken him little to no effort to find the young woman hiding inside an abandoned house that had appeared empty at first glance.

Her terrified screams serving no purpose at all as he entrapped her and heartlessly snatched the noisy little creature away from her struggling limbs. She had shrieked and puked as he pounded the annoying bundle against a wall, a peaceful silence finally returning as she passed out senseless before him.

He had thrown her in the empty, musty dungeon and left her to simmer for a full night and day before giving into his desires and paying her a visit.

-Please! – She had cried out uselessly, receding as far as her small prison would let her – Please don't hurt me! Please!

The sound of the familiar, yet foreign language making him instantly recall that damn woman and her sweet, delicious curves. Making him equally aroused and furious at the same time.

She was nothing like her at all, not nearly as gorgeous… Nor did she have her candor or her vivaciousness, but if he closed his eyes, he sometimes could almost grasp the image of his most beloved and hated mistake.

So now, he went down there every night, to that filthy cell where he kept her naked and nearly starved, to help him remind himself that this time there would be no more slips. No passionate kisses, no tender chattering... No bed sharing.

All he wanted now was to pretend that whatever he did to this woman, he was doing to her. Somehow, it gave him solace, and it helped him go back to sleep every time after he tiredly returned to his room, leaving his prisoner lying on the dirty floor and silently crying.

This night was no different from the others. He irrupted in the cell, making the exhausted woman jolt in horror and basked in the sound of her high-pitched voice sobbing for clemency and calling out for help as he held to her neck, hard enough to hear her breathing struggle but not enough to kill her yet.

Njál closed his eyes, abruptly penetrating her, holding her against the wall and pushing inside her with all his might, his hand still holding her throat forcefully as she choked, and cried.

Her bawling ignored while he intently imagined Sehira´s plump lips asking for his forgiveness as she told him that she loved him... That she would never go away from him. That she had never wanted to hurt him. And that it all had been nothing but a big, sad misunderstanding.

His grunts turning into a frantic, shattering pained howl. Bitter tears running down his face freely as he kept going, faster and harder, fruitlessly searching for some type of relief.

-Tell Njál you sorry! Tell him of your love! – He desperately ordered, as he kept his restraining grip on her neck, her face turning impossibly red under his unwavering hand – Tell me!

He didn't even listen to the woman's distressed attempts to breathe, neither did he notice her futile efforts to free herself from his increasingly strong hold.

He was deep inside his head. Hearing another voice, thrusting himself into a warmer body, getting himself lost in some other lips. With his mind clearly picturing her lush curves, the sparkles in her eyes, the perfume of her s*x.

-"I love you, my master!" – He could almost hear her voice say, just for a brief… cruel moment, before abruptly reaching his climax and spiraling back to a profound state of despair and loss. The foul smell of the disgusting place returning immediately to his nostrils and making him gag.

He pulled himself out of the stranger's core with a sudden sense of repulsion, letting her limp body slide to ground, rapidly reaching for his pants, and putting them on.

He grabbed the sack that he had brought down with him, containing a few pieces of hard bread and some leftover fruit, tossing it towards her, the bag colliding heavily against the woman's unresponsive frame.

-Eat! – He furiously shouted, frowning at the fact that she had not jumped over the food scraps as she usually did whenever he was done with her.

He paused, walking towards the girl and kicking her slightly with his foot, the flaccid form dropping heavily to the side, the head hitting the ground with a loud thud as she remained immobile at his action.

With sharp goosebumps running down his skin, he squatted and placed a hand on her neck, noticing her cold state and the lack of pulse, his finger darting below her nose and realizing that she was not even breathing.

-Wake up! – He cried out, slapping her face over and over, and shaking her shoulders forcefully without any result. The woman far lost to the claws of death.

He had remained there for a good hour, leaning on a corner and holding her stiff body between his legs, sobbing inconsolably and running his hands down her matted hair. Fat tears rolling down his cheeks and onto the corpse's face.

When he got tired of the deafening silence that was slowly oppressing him with an unbearable nothingness. He finally got up and walked away from the aftermath of his outburst.

Feeling a powerful need for fresh air, he rushed to the palace's entrance and, once there, he stood wheezing as he bent down on his knees and raggedly gasped for air.

After a few more agonizing minutes regaining his wits, he rose and breathed in deeply, his nose suddenly filling with that cherished and familiar scent. Somehow, sensing her unlikely proximity as clear as day… His heart beating out of control for a second, before he angrily forced his childish impetus down and made up his mind.

They had overstayed their time in that forsaken city for too long. But he would not be making the same errors that he'd made back at Lowland's gate… They were going to continue with their march, and there would be no one strong enough to stop his advance this time.