He looks at me gravely. No. I didnt, that was my fellow company. You are in my hands now, whether either of us can do something about it I am not sure. I do know, however, that I am supposed to protect you for unknown reasons of the King. You must agree that I have no hands in that.

I look to the ground and avoid him. I will never agree. Not for him or with him.

May I call you by your name which I know not of? He introduces gently.

I swallow dry spit and want to feel the loathing I know to be still stored in me somewhere. You may not. It is hoarse and whispery but I take pleasure at the callousness.

He sighs. May I at least take you into a safer environment?

My welfare is my own concern, even if you have been given responsibility of it.

He is still calm. I agree it is in your keeping physically and mentally, but it is in my hands to keep you, not just your health, in good condition for whatever the king desires.

The way he says it makes the Kings ideas sound worse than before, but I feel a shift inside that he is right. I look at him, not wanting the truth to separate me and the roaring despised feeling I have for him, but the hate is fleeing quickly from my heart, and I cannot seem to harness and pull it back.

I tighten my fist, feeling the anger through it as I dig my nails into my skin. What did they mean I was wanted by the King?

His face turns flushed, and he looks unmistakably unconvinced. I do not know.

I hate that he sounds honest. If it is your responsibility to take me somewhere, you must know. You belong to the Spanish army.

He clenches his jaw, but not out of anger, it is passive and slightly annoyed, though not with me it seems. I cannot tell you if I dont know. I am new to the military. The man you ran into todayhe was the one you could have asked. It is earnest.

I think over the event with the first officer again. I hate to break it to him, but I dont think there would have been a moment when I could have asked him, and I dont plan on meeting him again. Now or ever.

Then why do you want to control me?

He is quiet. Not control, care-take.

It sounds much worse. Why?

He is silent.

If owning me is in your best interest than His face is firm. You belong to no one but yourself and God, but we have our rights to protect and help each other whether the other is ignorant of it or wants it.

I cant answer it. I instead direct him elsewhere. Why?

He glances behind me. I dont know, he sounds earnest, and I have a feeling he is.

I push aside the words. Where are we now?

In a friends cottageI must take you somewhere safer, the last part was only to himself, but I cant help it.

No.

He eyes me carefully. I have to.

After a moment of my silence, he starts to rise.

I watch, unsure of his action and my best interest being in it. He comes closer and the unsureness soon roils inside and turns into nothing but dead quiet. My heart pounds again. I shake my head in imploration, but he is already picking me up and dragging me towards the door.

The loathing returns.

I pull back but he brings me in tight in his hold. He is of the greater power. I nearly lose my balance as he pulls me to my feet too fast. I twist my wrist trying to get away, but he holds me in his hands, loosening and tightening depending on my force. I beg out in sobs, but he seems unmoved by it all. My head is spinning and it takes all my concentration not to stumble over myself as tears blur my vision. I dont know why I am even fighting anymore. I couldnt get to them even if I did free myself. I dont stop even though I know this.

We make a slight curve in our path along the wall and I find myself identifying the side of the city on the east. He pauses a moment and his grip tightens at a sound nearby. I want to scream. I almost scream. I should scream, but I dont. He brings me forward another yard, and then without warning turns into an open doorway. The moment I feel him relax, I know we are in his desired place. I pull away. I glimpse a dirt grounded room with a table, a stove, and a book shelve before I smack against the floor.

I let out one last sob as my knees wobble beneath my weight as I try to support myself. I crawl and drag myself away from him, cowering and then collapsing to the ground, never wanting to be touched again.

He stands there panting and watching with an unreadable expression on his face. My eyes forcibly open and close as I shake with my consistent sappy sounding sobs. I hear him sigh and as my eyes open, I glace him from my awkward position as he turns and locks the door we came through and then starts towards the open doorway to the right. I close my eyes and keep crying and groaning into my hands, burrowing into myself.

I am all I have left.

Chapter 3.

I dont know how long Ive lain here, but it is cold, my toes are numb, and my body is stiff against the hard floor. I slowly raise my head from its long endured cradle in my arms. I feel my stomach growl and remember that I havent eaten anything today. I hear something creak and a small scratching sound against steel is followed by the sound of silverware against glass. I conclude that I am not yet left to my freedom and lay back down my head, not wanting to be noticed but forgotten. I close my eyes and wait for silence. It comes too soon and I start to drift.

Something warm and steamy wafts into my breath and I frown. I soften to it as it strengthens and become a little too comforting. I hear the muffled shuffle of feet over the ground close behind me, but my lethargy gives me no warning. The smell is irresistible.

There is a soft brush against my shoulder and I freeze, my eyes shooting open at the unexpected contact with another object. I do not move.

Then I hear it.

Are you hungry?

I swallow as I catch the scent of waving heat again. Without turning, after this past month of starvation, I know it is hot food.

I ignore it.

There are a few moments of quiet. I hear the sound of something being set against the floor by my head and glimpse a white bowl with something contained in its round circumference. I listen to him getting to his feet and wait until he is safely out of hearing. I gradually start to push up from my lying place.

I peek into the bowl and see warm millet with some rosemary sprinkled over the scoop of boiled granules. I once again swallow dryly into my sore throat. My stomach feels empty and pitted. I feel it churn restlessly as though speaking for itself. I dont take the millet. I lie back down and try to forget the ache in my sides from my strain and hunger. I start to sink and drift, forgetting all else and letting go of the images of my nightmare. I feel myself being lifted into sleep again and dont have the strength to fight against any other battle to be won. I let go.

I awaken slowly to the sounds of birds chirping outside. My eyes are blinded by the shock of early morning light as they absently open. I shift a little and pull the warm blanket farther up and around me. I frown and leisurely start to lift my gaze from my lids. I look around me and am thoughtfully forgetful for a few moments. Then, all rushes into me like a newly surfaced stream. I am suddenly bolted with energy. I start up a little from my place on the dirt ground.

The room is empty and quiet apart from the scarce furniture and sounds of dishes and pots being rattled in another room. I look in the direction from which the sound is coming from, and it takes me a moment to fully wake my eyes. He is there, through the door-less doorframe, with his front facing me as I sit here watching his figure and recalling the loathing Id felt for him. I suppose that the stove is pushed up against the wall, so that blocked from my view.

I watch hesitantly but with resentment to the hesitance, frightened of meeting his gaze. He fills the bowl and then takes up another and fills it to the brim as well. I feel my stomach twisting and my mouth waters out of hunger. He steps over to the small table with two chairs only half hidden behind the wall, and sets the filled bowl on the side closest to me, and then sits with his face to me. To my thanks, I do not find him looking at me. He picks up a letter and opening it, begins to read, his brow slightly furrowed in a thoughtful crease.

I feel my stomach growl. I dont think I can last without at least water. I look for the bowl hed given me yesterday (was it yesterday already?) but it is no longer in my bearings. I swallow hard at the thought of a day passing since moeder and Meyleias departure. Though it pains me, I feel the ache in my stomach and my head keeps me from retaining a reasonable train of thought. I reluctantly start to rise and begin towards the table.

I must pray for them later.

For them to come back.

Chapter 4.

I slowly sink down into the seat and forbid myself to make any visual contact with the being sitting across from me. He looks up and I uncertainly meet his gaze.

I hate it, how even as I try to I cannot disobey my etiquette but I can disobey my self-commands.

Slowly, a weary warm gaze melts through my tension and shows his clearer interpretation of my presence. I keep looking at him unsurely, my head lowered, and the slouch in my worn figure probably illustrating my weakness. He swallows and slowly reaches out over the table and stirs his porridge. Feeling my eyes on him, he raises his gaze from the bowl.

I watch him intently but angrily. His stormy dark blue eyes are not in the least displeasing or intimidating. I realize that even if he was, he did not look like a Spanish man at all, despite his hair which has the same charcoal brown look about it as most of them do. Still, I do not show my true sentiments, instead performing by the largest emotion within me: fear.

He gives me a questioning look and then glances at my porridge. I look down as well, not positive of my own permission to end my hunger with the food served. Most importantly I wished to see that it was no trick of poisoning. Vader had taught me how to tell if it was meddled with, but as I sit before the food now, between the restless agitations in my muscles, the sour limitation in my stomach, and dizziness of my head, I would hardly be able to test it.

It wont bite back, he ensures.

I look up and find him watching me calmly. I do not wish to join in this game of humiliating myself before him just for my reason of self-defense. After all, I did have provocation to do so.

Are you going to eat? he tries again.

I hold back from amusing him.

He understands the match and sighs out forgivably. Fine, you win. Call me your enemy, but please, do eat?

I do not stir.

He waits.

I lean back farther in the chair; away from the food.

He looks as though relieved for a reaction but still concerned for my stomachs well fair. Please. His face is now nothing but sincere.

I do not respond.

He sighs and stands, starting for the door. I stop as pride rises in my chest at my control in the encounter. I think of Vaders words on the virtues and vanities of the world, and resist remembering how virtue did not include pride or contempt. I remember how Gilch had taken me close when theyd threatened to mean me harm. I resist this thought even more so. I feel some guilt ascend in my heart, and my beats already being weak, I cant bare it. I remember his subtle eyes as Id first looked into them; full of promise.

This ends it.

I shrink.

Wait I hear his steps decease.

There is a moment of silence and I listen. Slowly, his steps restart towards the table, coming nearer to me. I fight the urge to stand and observe his every move to make sure he steers clear of my place. I manage not to do so and he rounds into my vision once more. He sits opposite from me and waits patiently. We are both quiet.

When I cant find anything to distract my pounding heart, I speak. Are you upset with my people?

His face softens further as though I was a babe saying its first words. I try to look at him without seeing the care in his face but fail. No. Your people have done nothing.

I search his eyes. What do you want me for?

This time, his face is too sinfully soft.

I feel myself cringe.

Nothing, he says it truthfully.

It is too easy to believe. Then why must you keep me here?

He swallows and his face hardens a little. Protection fromthe average....

He stops as though seeing deeper into me, understanding my need for a response of some kind to hold onto.

Duty to the King is such that I mustI cannot answer you directlybut I feel there is some force out there which wishes to harm you.

I give him a look. I need to know why if I am forced to stay.

He is gentle. If I am to teach you, it would be guesses. I am not the right one to askI myself hardly understand whyif it would make you more comfortable, I could inquire after the answer for you to my superiors.

I hesitantly re-meet his gaze. When will you let me go?

He watches me, his expression unreadable. When I am directed I keep looking at him. When...?

Soon enough, he replies soothingly.

I want to implore, but feel that his answer is too explanatory. Are you upset with me?

He is gentle, and almost teasing. No, but I feel that was part of your planto make me to be.

I look down. Then let me go.

He firms a little. I cannotplease pardon me and set aside that wish, for it is beyond what I may do.

I look up. You want me for somethingplease, dont push me to I want you for nothing but your protectionas is my duty...only for a little longeryou shall make the rules, use my house as refugebut please do not ask me such questionsthey are worthless to either of us.

It is rushed and earnest, as though trying to stop the words I had been implying from spilling from my mouth.

I look up hearing this in his warm voice. When I find a glass case over his expression, I look down again and I keep quiet.

He tries to meet my gaze. Have I hurt you? He sounds concerned.

I flush a little at the sensations the kind words give me and avoid his gaze.

He grows apologetic. Im sorryIm sure they will let you go home soon.