Chapter Twenty-one *NEW*

CONTENT ADVISORY / TRIGGER WARNING

THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS DEPICTIONS/STRONG IMPLICATIONS OF THE FOLLOWING THAT SOME READERS MAY FIND OFFENSIVE OR DISTURBING:

~ SEX AND INTIMACY

Laying comfortably on a large bed, covered in quilted blankets and plush animal furs, Gaalin rested with his hands tucked behind his head while staring up at the ceiling. He had drunk to his heart's content, filled his belly with good food, and enjoyed the evening in decent company. Laughing and cheering alongside the townsfolk, thriving in the festivities within the inn.

The men who'd started a fight made for an entertaining spectacle, the sight of the three drunkards who had chosen to pick a fight, being beaten down as if they defenseless creatures had thrilled him. As well as others. They'd made the mistake of missing a strike against his back, and instead enraged a bull of a man. The fight had lasted long enough to draw a roaring crowd, yet not long enough to draw the guards on patrol to the establishment.

He was thankful he'd thought ahead and rented a room for the night, paying the inn keep a handful of coin to prepare a room where he may sleep in comfort. Except, despite his anticipation of being alone for the evening, he was not. The lovely wench who had joined his table early into the festivities took it upon herself to join him within his lodgings.

She lay across his legs, toying with the leather strips that bound his pants together. Periodically stealing away his cup to drink his ale, then sweetly humming a tune to herself. She'd made it clear throughout the evening what her intentions were, although he hadn't expected her to follow him so boldly to his room.

Between staring at the boards in the ceiling and glancing down to her light brown locks of hair that tickled his abdomen, he found himself wondering if he should ask her to leave or allow her to continue. Sleep was tempting him.

He swore she had told him her name earlier, yet he couldn't remember it now. It started with an R he thought, Ran? Runa? Ragnfrid?

"Gaalin," she purred. "You're not focusing on me in the least."

He chuckled. "Sorry lass, my mind is tempting me with sleep."

Her lower lip pouted, "What can I do to tempt your mind with something else?"

Stretching with a yawn, as his lips returned to meet with his exhale, he smiled at her mischievously. "I'm not sure lass."

She smiled back at him, leaning over his chest and pulling his shirt apart by undoing the wooden buttons from the stitched holes. Placing kisses along his abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles.

"Is this better?" she asked.

He closed his eyes, "Do as you please lass."

"Oh?"

"Just make sure I enjoy myself."

She giggled, "I'll make sure of that." He felt her nibble the skin over his chest.

"If I enjoy it enough, there's coin in it for you." The woman resumed her humming, nibbling and kissing his skin. Her mindset changed at the thought of his coin in her pocket.

"You'll agree, won't you?"

Grinding his teeth together, Gaalin glanced between the king and Libelle. What choice would he have? What decision did he have to make? To refuse, and to have his history of wrong doings exposed? He would forever be hunted down more so than he already was. He would become a banished individual from Edinburgh, the place where he was able to find the majority of his work and his income. He'd abandon the small child, with whom he felt an indescribable connection towards, one he couldn't explain. If he refused, who know what care the child would receive. Why did he have to care so much?

If he refuses, and he chooses to leave... He would leave a young elf who had known nothing but cruelty from man, within their hands once again. Perhaps, he could lift Libelle up in his arms and make a run for the door. He would have to fight through a number of guards, and he wasn't sure if he would make it while protecting Libelle. Yet, if he could make it past them, he could escort her to one of the elven strongholds. There, she would remain protected, far from the pain that man could inflict upon her.

"Dark elf, I await your decision."

His eyes squeezed shut, if he refused he could be struck down here and now. If he stayed, he could continue living, earning his livelihood, and protect the girl. "Alright."

The king smirked, feigning that he could not hear him. "Hm? What was that?"

"I'll stay. I'll be her housecarl."

"Excellent."

Gaalin sighed, he must... he must keep his history a secret, at least for now. To ensure this, he would stay. He would protect Libelle and her property. He would teach her how to survive as someone with rights should be allowed to live; train her in the art of combat so she may defend herself when needed. He would become the guardian she had lost so many years ago.

And just like that, Gaalin was sworn as Libelle's shield and sword, and Libelle was forced into mock slavery as the Slayer of Edinburgh. One day, when she died, it would be under an order coming from this obese man with a thirst for power. What sort of life did they just find themselves thrust into?