The Lowlander Pt. 01

"What would you like to know?"

"How old are you?"

"34."

"Were you born in the Lowlands?"

"Yes."

"Do you... do you have a wife?"

Jem's eyes narrowed. "No."

"Why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?"

"Why aren't you married?" Hanna asked, reaching into the fruit bowl and popping a grape into her mouth. "You're very attractive, you've got a high-ranking position, decent accommodations... what more could a woman want?"

Jem said nothing. Instead, she asked, "Are you done?"

"Almost," Hanna replied, helping herself to more grapes. "And you didn't answer my question."

"Are you always this invasive?"

"Yes."

Jem set the bowl aside with a sigh of exhaustion. "I haven't found someone I can trust. What about you?"

"What about me?" Hanna asked, finishing the last of the grapes.

"Why aren't you married?"

"I can't be married. I devoted myself to the Coven for years. Although now that we've been dissolved, I suppose I'm free of that vow."

Jem didn't meet her eyes. Instead, she busied herself with getting a clean cloth to wipe Hanna's hands.

"So, what now?" Hanna asked.

"Sleep. It's been a long day."

"Oh." Hanna didn't have to say more to convey her disappointment. "Could I maybe have a kiss goodnight?"

Jem stared at Hanna for the longest time before her gaze drifted to her lips. Hanna ran her tongue over them, hoping they were as swollen and enticing as they felt.

When Jem didn't move, Hanna simply said, "Please."

Jem felt her control unraveling. Goddamn but she wanted this girl, with her smart mouth and quick reflexes. She was a skilled warrior in her own right and that made Jem want her even more. But those lips... people should be warned about them. They glistened in the low lamplight and Jem was powerless to resist them.

She tasted unbelievably sweet, her lips deliciously thick under Jem's tongue. Her whimpers -- dear God -- Jem was only a woman, how could she resist deepening the kiss, sliding her tongue against Hanna's. Jem's fingers cupped the nape of Hanna's neck, holding her in place as their tongues dueled.

When she pulled back, they were both breathless. Hanna's eyes were glazed over, her lips more swollen than before. She was panting, her shoulders trembling.

"Please," she said again, and Jem didn't have the will to deny her.

Hanna struggled against the chains, her hands itching to delve into Jem's hair and hold her in place. As she was pushed back on the bed, she felt consumed by Jem, her very being focused on the one person that overruled everything.

Jem grasped the curve of Hanna's hips and pulled her closer, sliding a knee between her legs. Hanna whimpered deep in her throat upon the light contact, her hands straining against the chains yet again.

Jem took her time, her fingers roving down the exposed vee of Hanna's shirt, stopping just short of her navel before moving back up again. All the while, she got closer and closer to Hanna's breasts but didn't touch them, merely outlined their shape through the cloth.

Not again, Hanna thought. No more teasing. Please!

Hanna raised her free leg and entwined it around Jem's waist, pulling her closer so they were chest to chest.

"Touch me," she begged, her voice low.

Jem slid her lips against Hanna's, her fingers tracing the bare leg around her waist and marveling at the soft skin. When she got to the soft swell of Hanna's bottom, she gave it a sharp slap, making Hanna gasp in surprise.

"What was that for?" she asked, eyes wide.

"For trying to rush me. I mean to take my time." Jem's voice was low. She dug her fingers into the soft roundness of Hanna's bottom.

Hanna took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of desire swirling inside her. She tugged at the chains again subconsciously, feeling the need to control something, anything about her own pleasure.

"Everything about you intoxicates me," Jem whispered against Hanna's breasts, her fingers now caressing the crease between Hanna's thigh and womanhood. "Why is that?"

"I- I don't know." Something in Hanna's brain had lapsed at the contact so close to her needy core. She wiggled under Jem's weight, trying to get those fingers closer to where she needed them most.

"If you move even a little bit more, you're going back to the floor."

Hanna stilled under Jem's unwavering gaze, aching with need.

"That's a good girl," Jem praised as she took Hanna's nipple into her mouth.

Hanna gasped, pulling on the chains reflexively, as Jem began to suckle. She didn't know how long she laid there, feeling the tug and pull of Jem's lips lighting a fire in her belly. She lost track of time, of how many times she'd said 'please'.

When she finally felt fingers at her core, her eyes closed as she shuddered. Jem's fingers traced the shape of her nether lips, dipping into the well of moisture gathered there. With two wet fingers, Jem flicked upward, tracing the outline of Hanna's sensitive pink button.

"Oh goddess, yes," Hanna whimpered, throwing her head back. "Please, yes."

Her words, repeated on a loop, made little sense, but she couldn't stop them as Jem's fingers worked over the same spot repeatedly. Her breath coming out in harsh, quick pants, Hanna spiraled towards the peak.

"Please, Jem. I want to ride you."

She hadn't even been aware that those words had been queued on the tip of her tongue. But her eyes popped open when she heard the telltale snick of chains unlocking. When she lifted her hands, she found herself free.

Her eyes drifted up to Jem's, their dark, raw intensity shocking her. She reached up and sank her hands into Jem's short locks, sighing in contentment at finally being able to feel the soft blonde hair between her fingers.

"Kiss me again, Jem," she whispered, pulling her lover close.

Hanna kissed Jem hungrily, whimpering when Jem's fingers began moving across her wetness.

In a quick move, she pushed Jem against the headboard and straddled her waist.

"Now, fuck me."

Two fingers entered her swiftly, making her cry out and shudder. She held on to Jem's shoulders, leaning back to get the full thrust of her fingers.

Jem was a very talented woman with exquisite fingers. Hanna could barely breathe with every thrust, every curl, every flick. She rocked her hips in time with Jem's fingers, feeling the edge coming closer.

"Mark me," Hanna breathed. "Mark me, Jem. Make me yours."

She felt Jem's teeth sink deep into her shoulder, marking her, owning her, drawing blood. The sharp pain pushed Hanna over the edge, and she fell into the waiting pool of release in Jem's arms.

She was resting on the warmth of Jem's chest when she awoke. Callused fingers slowly threaded through her long curls in an action so soothing that it nearly pulled Hanna back into a sleepy stupor.

Instead, she fought it and looked up at the beautiful face of her lover.

"Hello," she said, her voice a little rusty. "I believe it's time I gave you pleasure."

Jem smiled as Hanna pulled her lips down for a thorough kiss.

*

Just before dawn, Hanna stood in front of the open window, her hair once again in a tight braid. Jem's mark on her shoulder stung fiercely, but she wouldn't think about that now. The mark had been key. She knew if Jem claimed her, she'd never be in chains again. It was law, even here in the Lowlands, to respect the ones you claim as your own.

Hanna studied the horizon. She would have twenty minutes to free her sisters and head towards the coast before the Lowlanders started their day and realized the captives were missing.

She turned back to the bed, her heart heavier than she could imagine.

Jem.

Her resting form was beautiful. Her face had lost most of its tension. One hand was stretched out to Hanna's side of the bed, as though her sleeping form still sought Hanna's warmth.

Just as Hanna was about to turn away, Jem stirred. Hanna held her breath as Jem's eyes blinked open, seeking.

Make the jump. Do it now.

But Hanna couldn't. Instead, she stood by the window and watched Jem's eyes focus on Hanna's still form. Their eyes caught and held in the dim light. Hanna's throat thickened with words she couldn't -- or wouldn't -- say.

Then, as she watched, Jem turned over, away from Hanna, away from the beauty of what they'd shared mere hours before. An ache like none other settled in her heart as Hanna took in Jem's token of defeat.

I haven't found someone I can trust. Jem's words echoed in Hanna's head. Well, Hanna thought. You really shouldn't have trusted me.

Before she could waste any more time, Hanna hurled herself through the open window and landed softly on the grass below. She was still on a mission and her sisters depended on her.

*

Part II

The marauders appeared from nowhere. The woodland patrol had been slaughtered within minutes, leaving the village wide open for attack. Jem mobilized her army but she knew they were already on the losing end. But damn if she'd let these gold-mongering dogs invade the village she'd sworn to protect with her life.

The Lowland treasure was just a myth -- or the wealth of gold had simply diminished over the centuries. Although the village had a modest treasury, it certainly didn't match up to the tales of opulent gold and diamonds passed from one lowlife to another. If only these monsters could distinguish tall tales from reality.

Jem grunted as her sword clanged against a beast of man's. He was strong, well-built, but she'd seen bigger men fall. She wasn't deterred from swinging low, aiming for his legs. He fell backwards, expecting her move and avoiding her sword. A quick whistle from his lips brought others barreling towards her.

Shit.

She raised her sword, now in a defensive position, ready to ward off the onslaught of blind swings from the troupe of men who were filthy from having gone unwashed for months. The scent of their stench overwhelmed her as she deflected blows, the clang of swords deafening.

She was being pushed backwards. She knew she needed an offensive strategy. Any minute now, one of these brutes would trip up and she'd seize the opportunity to take at least one of them down.

So she held her breath, waiting for her moment, her sword arm starting to hurt something fierce. And then the inevitable happened -- one of the brutes fell to the ground with a surprised grunt.

Jem took the opportunity to swing forward, catching the biggest brute unawares in his chest. The sword sliced through his chest in half a second, sending him staggering back. The third invader tried to make a run for it but Jem's dagger caught the back of his neck and he fell face first into the earth.

The battle raged on around her. As she turned, a white arrow whizzed past her ear, just narrowly missing her. She heard a grunt a few feet behind her and watched another body fall to the ground. She instinctively ducked low and searched the trees. Her archers hadn't been mobilized -- it had been too late. She'd needed her army on the ground as the perimeters had already been breached.

She didn't have time to think about this. Her people were still under attack. She raised her sword again and stood, running for the swarm of men around her second commander, Finn. With one swing, she cut through two men.

"About fuckin' time," Finn grunted, her tan skin already drenched with blood. Not her own, Jem hoped.

They went through the marauders quicker than expected, the white arrows still whizzing by them every few seconds.

The village square looked like a battlefield by the time they were done -- the place where the tribe's children played during the day and the villagers held festive dances during feasts. It was all covered in blood and brains.

"I need to know how many we lost." Jem said as they caught their breaths.

Finn sheathed her sword. "I'll have the numbers to you within the hour, Commander."

Jem knelt behind a filthy fallen man and pulled an arrow from his back. The body twitched, spewing blood from the point of injury.

She wracked her brain, trying to recall the colors of tribes in the area. None of them were white with a painted black tip. And most tribes were located too far to have made it in time to protect Goldhurst.

"I count 42 arrows." Finn stood by Jem's side, boots planted widely apart, still poised for danger.

"Who?"

"Don't know the colors, Commander. But I'll find out."

The slight rustle of leaves was their only warning before a figure fell from the trees, landing on her knees in the dirt ten feet away. Finn drew her sword.

"Ease up, Second Commander. I would've killed you already if I wanted to."

Jem would've recognized that voice anywhere.

It was her.

Jem's blood boiled; her hand itched to draw her own sword. She felt her hands curl into fists as she watched the woman sling her bow over her body with ease.

She was covered in mud -- the perfect camouflage for her vantage point in the trees. Jem knew she should be thankful for the help -- god knew they'd been outnumbered. But the cloud of anger wouldn't dissipate.

"Who are you?" Finn asked, her sword still drawn and raised.

"Don't you recognize me, Finn? My sisters and I were your prisoners only a fortnight ago."

Finn's eyes flitted briefly to Jem's still form, noting her commander's stoic silence.

Another figure fell from the trees a few feet away, the form similarly slight and covered in mud.

"I'm Hanna. That over there is my sister, Bonnie."

An arrow landed at Hanna's feet, making her laugh, her teeth starkly white against the mud.

"And in those trees," she pointed to a cluster ten feet away from where they stood, "is Kara. I'm guessing she's stuck. Otherwise, she should be down by now."

"I'm not stuck," came the faint voice in the trees. "I'm just... looking out for more marauders."

Hanna rolled her eyes. She turned to Jem and Finn. "You're very welcome for the help, by the way. You were in a lot of trouble. Lucky for you, we weren't too far off when we heard swords clashing."

Jem looked at Finn and nodded towards the trees. The message was clear: "Help Kara down."

Then she turned and walked away. De-briefing for her army would start soon and she needed to prepare.

"That's it?"

Jem disregarded the voice and kept walking. Yes, she was grateful for the help but she couldn't bring herself to face this woman. Not after what she'd done -- the anger and self-doubt she'd inspired. It was easier without her. Things were stable, sane. No pain, no tears of regret. Wondering how stupid a person could be. How betrayed.

So Jem walked away and took stock of the fallen, mentally ticking off a list. Some of the trainees -- who had no business being on the field and were expressly forbidden from it -- were facedown on the earth, their blood-drenched colors painful for her to take in. As she walked to the edge of the square, she counted thirty. Thirty fallen soldiers, excluding those on patrol. Thirty souls she would have to account for. Thirty families to visit, thirty apologies to deliver.

She sighed aloud but made sure her face remained stoic; some of the villagers had come out of hiding, the little ones peeking at her from behind full skirts. They were safe -- that's all that mattered. Not one of them had fallen; Jem took comfort in that.

Paula, a kind woman in her thirties who ran a shelter for the village orphans, handed Jem a bucket of fresh water as she passed her abode. Jem didn't have to look down to know she was covered in a thick mask of blood -- none of them her own, thank god.

She thanked Paula and bent low to wash her face and hands.

"Are you hurt, Commander?" Paula asked, her voice soft.

"Are you hurt, Commander?" The second voice came from behind Paula's skirt. A girl, maybe three years old, with an adorable lisp. She probably mimicked everything Paula said. Jem smiled.

"No, sweetheart, I'm not. Don't you worry."

"But the bloods..." the young one said, pointing the red rivulets of water flowing into the drain.

"It's not mine. I'll be here to protect you for a long time."

The girl smiled, revealing uneven teeth and chubby cheeks. Jem felt her heart flutter with longing as she reached out to ruffle her hair.

She stubbed out the emotion quickly and straightened.

"You can't ignore me forever." The voice came from directly behind her. Jem ignored it and kept walking. The woman simply wasn't worth it.

*

Hanna watched Jem walk away from her and blinked back tears. What had she thought? That she could simply return to Goldhurst and Jem would welcome her with open arms? Maybe say, "Come here, beautiful. I understand why you left" and kiss her silly?

Stupid -- that's what Hanna was. A naïve fool. She'd hurt Jem, probably a lot worse than she'd ever understand. Now the woman wouldn't look at her or even talk to her.

But Hanna wouldn't be dissuaded. She'd made a decision -- a really terrible decision that had been out of her hands. Her loyalty to the Coven came first, above everything else. Even her own happiness. But she needed to make up for it. Ask for forgiveness; make it right again.

Now that Mistress Linette's ashes were scattered on the Coast, she was free. Free of her vows to the Coven and free to pursue what she wanted. And what she wanted, what she hadn't been able to stop thinking about over the past two weeks, was Jem. Jem, whose touch -- be it a caress or rebuke -- had warmed Hanna's core... and her heart.

Even if she didn't find what she came for, she'd find forgiveness. Of that, Hanna was determined. So she followed Jem, keeping pace with her long, determined strides.

Jem was well-loved, of that Hanna was certain. The number of villagers who came forward to ask if she was hurt was heartwarming. Many offered her water and food, and children watched in awe as she sat by the stream and reverently cleaned her sword.

Hanna perched on a boulder close by and watched as a little girl made herself at home next to Jem, resting her chubby cheek on Jem's knee as she scrubbed her sword. Jem didn't seem to mind. She answered the kids' curious questions with more patience than Hanna could've mustered.

Hanna couldn't help but smile. Who would've thought that the gruff, stoic commander would have a soft spot for children?

When she caught the eye of one of the kids, she gestured for him to come over. He dusted earth off his pants and ran over with all the enthusiasm of a five year old.

"Would you tell your Commander that Hanna says she's sorry and that we need to talk?"

His brows furrowed but he nodded anyway, running back to the Commander with his message. He leaned in close to Jem to whisper it to her. But Jem didn't even look in Hanna's direction before she shook her head and thanked the boy for delivering the message.

The kid looked over at Hanna and shrugged with little sympathy.

Hanna sighed. This was going to be more difficult than she expected.

*

When Hanna walked back to the village square, the bodies had been cleared. The villagers were helping to restore damaged houses and clean blood off the ground. Hanna learned that they would feast tonight in celebration of their victory and in honor of the fallen -- a tradition she had heard about but never experienced. If her hometown of Caverna was invaded, the people would mourn for weeks, even months, in memory of the dead. Goldhurst seemed to pick the cheerier option.

She found her sisters on their knees, dressed in clean borrowed clothes, scrubbing the front doors of the church. Blood was spattered on the gold doors and ran down the stone steps. The harsh lowland sun had already congealed the mess.

Hanna watched them from the bottom of the steps, her heart filling with gratitude for the only two women who'd volunteered to help her. The other thirteen in her Coven had declined, citing they were too weary for a battle that wasn't their own. But these two, despite having trekked for almost a month through rough foliage, had offered their bows to save a few lives. Hanna was thoroughly grateful.