Fairy Rings

15. Intimidation

"There you are, Mutt. You can help with the second truck." The Dame commented, a quick gesture from Ciaran made that request invalid.

"The Mutt has another thing to tend to." As Ciaran cast his gaze toward his daughter, he couldn't help but notice how her heart skipped a beat. It was evident that she was feeling uneasy, and he knew the reason why. In an ideal world, she wouldn't have paid any attention to the men around her, but the reality was much different and more daunting. The few men already gathered were shifting uneasily in their boots, and their disapproving glances and shocked murmurs made her skin crawl. Clearly, they didn't approve of something, but she couldn't tell what it was. It was maybe her outfit, or her appearance, could have been her hair, or the fact she called the Mutt by name and people gossip. Ciaran could see the fear in his daughter's eyes, it was nice watching her realize what the world was truly like, however, his brow furrowed, and he watched in pure disbelief as Navaeha eagerly clung to Ambrosia's arm. Even though he looked like the same scary man he always seemed to be, after he wrapped her up in her blanket to keep the cold at bay, he seemed to help her find comfort. It was nice to have a guard dog. "You know what, Mutt, take that princess to her grandmother. She should be in the kitchen right about now." Ciaran motioned for another man to help the Dame as he ushered them into the big stone house. The beautiful paintings hanging on the mansion's walls paired nicely with the mahogany and black walnut furnishings, brown fluffy rugs lined the floor that looked like they were brushed regularly, and a sweet smell lingered in the air. The rest of the house was hard to describe; everything paired wonderfully with each other, so much so that Navaeha couldn't help but be mesmerized by everything. As the trio turned a rounded corner, Ciaran took a moment to fluff her hair before leading them into what appeared to be a kitchen from the late 1600s. The interior was dimly lit and filled with smoke emanating from a large fireplace dominating the center of the room. Several kettles hung from hooks around the fireplace, giving the impression that they had been used for quite some time. The sound of wood crackling and popping added to the cozy and rustic atmosphere of the space. Amidst all this, a little old black woman stood just a few feet away from the fireplace, her hands kneading a loaf of bread with practiced ease. The smell of freshly baked bread wafted through the air, making the trio's stomachs rumble with anticipation.

The little old lady's messy hands stopped and clasped over her mouth. "My goodness," Tears welled in her eyes as she stood there. "Is it her?" The croak in her voice, the speed with which she ran to Navaeha and shoved Ambrosia aside, which seemed impossible; however, there her grandmother was with her bony arms wrapped tightly around the unsuspecting girl. Navaeha glanced wearily at her father. Ambrosia had already regained his balance, straightened out his sweatshirt, and dusted off the sticky flour when the little woman released Navaeha from her hug, but she wasn't done yet. Turning her head this way and that, the little woman smiled at her warmly, "My dear, oh my child. I haven't seen you in ages! I thought for certain we were never going to find you." Gasps and the choking of tears ensued as her father pulled her back, pleading eyes cast against him.

"Mother, there will be time for reintroductions later at breakfast. Have you and your little brood almost finished?" Her expression quickly soured as she scowled at her towering son like a child. "She needs someone to walk her around the town."

"You can't let her go out there to those men! They'll eat her like wolves! She's only a little girl!"

"Mother." He scolded. With that, the older woman cast her eyes wearily at Ambrosia and returned to her baking, the girls of her brood now helping. "I'm sure you'll be able to find your room easily with that Mutt at your side." Ciaran glared at Ambrosia before leaving them to their own and began to the needs of the older woman. Shocking Navaeha again, he rolled up his sleeves, washed his hands, and started helping his mother in the kitchen.

Navaeha struggled to keep her footing on the uneven floor, stumbling and tripping repeatedly as she clung desperately to Ambrosia's arm. The paintings that lined the walls were once beautiful, but now they were twisted and grotesque, depicting bloody sacrificial figures and animals that hung in macabre poses. The darkness surrounding them seemed to seep into the hallway itself, turning the once beautiful windows into black walnut doors and causing the shadows on the floor to grow and stretch as the light slowly faded. Among all the scary decor, Navaeha barely noticed the pair of red doors at the end of the hallway, beckoning to them with an eerie and ominous aura.

"I would like to say that they tried their best; these men have never been ones for decorating unless it was with antlers or busts." Ambrosia lifted her head, her eyes meeting his in a tired haze. "I know you've been up for so long. I promise tonight you'll sleep on a cloud." A soft groan escaped her lips as she closed her eyes, imagining his soft chest under hers, his arms wrapped loosely around her torso with the sheets pulled up to the small of her back. As she stepped backward to look at a painting better, she ran into a cobweb, her hands frantically began moving about adding to a high-pitched squeak. Her glasses knocked to the floor. Closing her eyes, she leaned on the wall only to find to find Ambrosia looking at her with an amused expression on his face hovering over her. His hands on each side of her against the wall, her glasses in tucked in his shirt. As if on queue, the red door creaked open, and a grotesque figure popped his ugly head out around the large frame.

"Ah, took you long enough!" The man laughed; his seven-tooth grin made the dark wall seem safer than the light from the room. Certainly, Ambrosia felt the same as Navaeha in her worries, his hand firmly placed on his gun, "Oh! Don't look so shocked to see me, princess."

"I'm not shocked; I think the words I'm looking for are deeply. . . disturbed." Navaeha thought hard about her choice of words as she fluffed the ball on her head and approached the door. She wondered whether it was hard or not to see her shaking in the dark, she hoped he couldn't see it. "If you wouldn't mind letting me unpack my things?" Resting her hand on the door and leaning in, she meant to look fierce and scary to counteract everything that had transpired; however, the grotesque man looked her up and down, ran a pale tongue over his few teeth, leaned in, and gave a wink.

"Here, after the party princess? I heard from the Dame that you like bastards." The shaft of a candle holder felt relaxed in her hand as Ambrosia slipped it into her grasp; a sharp jab left the mistaken man doubling over on his knees for a moment or two before he got up and opened the door a bit wider for her to enter with a bowed head. Two other men were standing with the Dame; he was holding a pair of her shorts over his head as if trying to imagine how she wore them. He didn't even have the decency to put them down when she entered the room. "Dame, I thought you said she was laid back."

"I said nothing of the sort; I said she called the Mutt by name." He turned his head, "My apologies, young lady, I was attempting to put away your clothing." She shuddered at the thought of the four men rummaging through her clothes, as unsettling as her trip had already been, why did it seem to continue getting worse?

"I would like you four to leave my room, please." Navaeha stood up straight, her eyes scanning the room. She held the candle holder tightly as she spoke, her fingers trembling with fear. She pointed the candle at a few people in the room, the flame flickering dangerously close to their faces. She was clearly beginning to enjoy herself, relishing the power she felt as she made her silent threats to the unphased men.

"Sure, we have orders to take your pet, though," The Dame grumbled at her, rolling his eyes while he spoke.

"I believe that Ambrosia is going to stay right where he is." She snapped at him, taking a pair of her panties from another man; the room stopped for a second as the men exchanged dirty smiles with Ambrosia. The fear she had pushed down quickly resurfaced as they shifted uncomfortably; one scratched his head while another messed with a button on his jacket. "What?"

"A word for the wise young lady: Not just anyone can call us by our names. It's reserved for our wives, our bitches, and our slaves." The Dame got closer to her, his hands creeping up the candle holder to help stabilize his dominance as he spoke, "It's an insult to yourself for you to call him that in front of anyone other than him, and I say, it's an insult to even say it to him even if you've given yourself to him and we both know you haven't. Our names weren't chosen by random. . . maybe his was chosen because your father was mad at him; however, it gives us our places in this kingdom and rank," His voice dropped to a whisper, "I'd be cautious to remember that he isn't your friend, your lover or your sweetheart and will kill you without remorse if he is asked to." As he relinquished his grip on the makeshift weapon, she stumbled backward and was caught by Ambrosia, who had been standing behind her. The men, who had been leering at her scant clothing and giving dirty stares just moments before, resumed their usual unpleasant and unbothered behavior, seemingly unfazed by the recent altercation. It was now as if nothing had happened.

Sitting her carefully on her bed, Ambrosia straightened his back. His figure towered over the skeletal Dame, but it had no effect. "You have no right to talk to her like that!"

"Even if you're blind to it now, Mutt, just know she's Ciaran's daughter. She's here for a purpose; once it's fulfilled, there will be no use for her. Unless she can grow a pair of testicles, she will be wed and forgotten. Just look at her mother." The candle holder came so hard across his jaw that it drew blood. The room stopped again, this time with the attention of onlookers being gained.

"I should cut out your tongue for the wicked words you say." Navaeha knew it was true though she hoped it wasn't but with all the wicked stories she had heard, it was only a matter of time before she was forgotten. However, she needed to regain her balance after a blow like that, "I will use whatever name I please, whether it be Ambrosia or Mutt, Ciaran or father, Dame or- what's your name?" Her head c****d upward to glare at him properly.

"Radne." The Dame reached up with a shaking hand to wipe the warm, crimson blood from his battered lip, his voice finally wavered. He glared at the group of men gathered around him, their eyes fixed on the injury on his face. The pain radiating from his lip had sent a sharp sting through his entire face, making it difficult for him to maintain his failing composure.

"Dame or Radne, I will use it. If it is to be used as an insult, I shall use it as the worst one of all for the lot of you. While we are gone, you are to put my room together." The Dame's expression had soured immensely. His hollow eyes, now resting on hers, would have made her shudder if she weren't so angry, "Must I hit you again?" Ambrosia cracked a smile, the fiery girl he had met in a coffee shop seemed to the back.

"No, young lady, I will send in the women to do as you request of us." Navaeha hadn't noticed that the rest of the men had gone already.

"No," The tip of the broken candle in the candle holder pressed firmly on his chest, "You are the ones who went through my clothing. So, you will be the one to put it away. I will be waiting in whatever room is here, and if I find that you didn't heed my command, I will cut off that mop on your head and put it in a jar on my mantle. Does that make more sense, Radne?" Pulling the falling blanket back up and around her back, Navaeha sat down on the airy mattress with a cruel smile.

"Yes."

"Good. You may leave now only if you come back while we are gone and do as I have instructed. I will label everything. If you need help knowing what articles of clothing are which, you can ask the women for help." The Dame stood motionless momentarily, his eyes fixed on the ground. He then slowly lowered his head in resignation and made a hasty exit from the room, brushing past three young, blonde maids standing near the doorway.