Roan- The King with an ice cold heart (rough draft)

Chapter 2

How long had I been here? Days? Weeks? I couldn't say. My mind was fuzzy and disoriented. I had been set in this room, rested in a chair with my hands bound behind the back of the seat, rendering me mostly useless. The inky, suffocating darkness made it hard to decipher minutes from hours- boredom dulling my senses. 

A crack of light slivered into the small cramped room as the door grimly creaked open. I squinted, the brightness burning my eyes, blinding me.  "About time. I was starting to think you had forgotten about little ol' me." I remarked dryly, with the intent to further irritate my captor, as I had learned he carried a quick temper. There was no response to my words, to which I found alarming. 

Being able to make out the shadow of a man, my indigo eyes became set on his every move. This man was taller than my abductor, this realization sending chills over my body. My breath stilled, feeling his heavy gaze over me, weighing me down. 

He approached me slowly, dead silence hanging gravely in the air. I felt his presence in front of me, as well as his intimidating scowl. "Would you be a dear and go fetch me my capturer? He is much more amusing." I spoke slyly, a small smirk dancing on my lips. Internally, my heart beat rose, something off. I continued to display my arrogant demeanor, looking over but not disregarding my instincts. 

A sharp blade was pressed to my neck, so cold it almost burned. "Killing me so soon? I'd at least hoped I'd go out with a bang." I hummed nonchalantly. The dagger was then reluctantly removed from my throat, as the stranger shifted, cutting away at my restraints, the harsh rope falling to the stone floor. My body trembled, out of relief or fear- I didn't know. The man gripped my arm, forcing me up from the chair without warning. My legs gave way underneath me, sending me to the floor with a smack. I groaned weakly, my body so busted up that I could hardly move. 

With a grumble from the stranger, he tucked his blade away, bending down to haul me over his shoulder, carrying me like a mere sack of flour. My stomach burned as it made contact against his broad shoulder, some of my wounds still fairly fresh. I hissed in pain, but the stranger began to walk towards the lighted hallway. I hung loosely as he walked, my eyes rolling over the corpse of my captor on the floor. My breath stilled as my stomach dropped. 

*** 

The cool night air was crisp and greeted me bitterly. I took a deep breath, shifting whilst hanging over the man's shoulder, too weak to fight. I wasn't able to see his face, only being met with the view of his back. He walked silently for a while, heading to the edge of a broad forest. I felt myself be lifted from his shoulder, as he carefully set me on top of his horse. I stole a glance at him, wondering if he was my savior or my doom. 

My eyes studied him, or what they could make out, at least. He was tall and strong- clearly a fighter. Mud and dirt caked his skin, as well as some dried blood in his long tangled hair. I had managed to catch a glimpse of his eyes which were an entrancing deep icy blue hue. He seemed rather stoic, his demeanor almost threatening. The stranger's face was also painted with unfamiliar symbols I didn't recognize, although it was challenging to make out their distinct geometry. 

Clutching my side with one arm I watched him untie his black mare from a tree, holding a deathly firm grip on my opposing wrist as he undid the last knot with his left hand. With the rope used to tie up his mare he bound up my wrists together, the rough material stinging as it dug into my already blistered skin. He turned and swiftly mounted the horse, settling in behind me. I tensed, sucking in a breath as I felt his broad strong chest push up against my back. 

His arms snatched the reins in front of me, trapping my sides. I was weary of this man. I didn't know if I should attempt to run or allow for him to take me wherever he was going; this conversation between us required no words. I didn't fight back or exemplify any signs of protest, so he clicked his tongue, his steed starting into a light canter, heading deeper into the lively forest.