Chapter Text
Snatching a potion from the man who rescued him and fleeing into the dungeon was not among Cahara’s proudest moments. But a mercenary didn’t survive by counting on the continued kindness of strangers. Get in, get out and get paid, that was how he survived. Find the freak, return him to the client and rest easy until the next job.
Mercenaries also didn’t survive by risking their lives to rescue abandoned children. That’s what Cahara told himself when he saw the girl in the cage, and walked right by without stopping to help. It’s what he told himself again when he went back and knelt to pick the lock, deriding himself for the stupidity of the act. But the fund of energy that sustained him through the guards’ abuses was ultimately derived from the woman and unborn child waiting for him in a Rondon brothel. Leaving an eight year old girl to die in the dark would have depleted that spark of life entirely and he would most likely have died himself before completing his mission.
So he took her out of the cage, and gave her a carrot and his last piece of cheese, and the straw doll he had shoveled into his bag thinking it held some occult significance. Despite the ache in his foot where a stray nail had pierced it, he picked her up and carried her when her legs cramped up after so long spent crouched in a box. He thought about taking her up to the surface, finding a safe place to leave her. He thought about the dogs and the priests and the crucified man, and he abandoned hope that there was anywhere she would be safe on her own.
He made it to the mines before he had to put her down and rest. His foot hurt and he didn’t want to go any further until he had a chance to catch his breath. The girl was asleep on his back, and putting her down woke her up. Which frightened her, waking up in a place she didn’t recognize, until she saw him and realized she was safe - or safer than she’d been in the cage. He explained that they were just resting for a bit, and asked if she could walk. She nodded, and that’s when he heard them coming. They were trying to be quiet, but the knight’s armor made an unmistakable coin purse jingling sound with every step.
“Shit. Okay, we need to run, right now.”
The girl nodded, frightened. Cahara stood and a rock went right through the hole in his shoe, into the tender spot where the nail pierced his foot. He didn’t cry out but he stumbled and caught himself on a support beam. The girl tried to help him stand.
“Go. Hide.” He hissed at her. She didn’t go or hide. Being alone in the dungeon had not worked out well for her before and she didn’t want to do it again.
“Fucking, get mo-”
A torch sparked in the dark. Shit, they were closer than he thought. It was the barbarian and the knight, armed and armored and pissed off.
“Oh, hey!” Cahara smiled, stepping forward in a pathetic hope of distracting them while the girl got away. The girl hung on to his shirt tails, hiding behind him. The knight circled past them, long blade held in a low guard position. Not closing within striking distance, but cutting off his escape. Fuck, he hated dealing with people who knew how to fight.
“Great to see you alive, you had me worried.”
The outlander grunted. “You tricked me.”
On a good day, if he used every dirty trick in the book, Cahara could probably take one of them. With both feet in good working order, he could probably get past the lady and flee further into the dungeon. With the girl and with his foot all fucked up, outnumbered two to one, there was really only one option.
“Look, not in front of the kid, okay?” Begging came natural to Cahara. It’s why he was still alive, with all his limbs attached. “Please. Take her somewhere else and you can do what you want.”
The knight sneered. “He’s trying to separate us. Improve his odds.”
Shit.
“No, look.” Cahara undid his sword belt with one hand, the girl wouldn’t let go of the other. The scabbard went clang on the floor, scimitar inside it. “I’ll take what I’ve got coming, please, just don’t make her watch. She’s-”
“Shut up.”
The outlander didn’t take his eyes off Cahara when he addressed the knight.
“D’arce, take the child.”
“This is an obvious trick. I didn’t think you were-”
“He will give me no trouble.”
The knight scoffed. All the same, she knelt to pry the kid off the mercenary. The girl didn’t want to go with the strange woman carrying the big sword, but Cahara told her it was fine and nothing bad would happen and he’d come get her once he was finished with the big man. So the girl let D’arce put a gauntleted hand on her shoulder and lead her away. Somewhere beyond line of sight.
Okay, one down. Cahara shivered with relief, even knowing what happened next wouldn’t be good. He wasn’t lying, he really didn’t want the girl to see. He swallowed.
“I’m sorry. I had to get-”
Ragnvaldr hit him in the stomach. He knew it was coming and he could have juked it. But he couldn’t fight the big Northerner and he couldn’t get away, and if the barbarian was just going to smack Cahara around he would take it on the chin. So the mercenary doubled over and wheezed to convincingly sell the blow. Which wasn’t hard, because it did really hurt. He stayed doubled over until just before it would be unconvincing. Uncurled his body and immediately coughed when Ragnvaldr hit him again.
“You’re a thief.”
Cahara nodded. Put up a hand like he was trying to ward off another blow. To make the barbarian feel strong, and big, and like he didn’t have to kill him to make the point.
“I’m told in your country, the custom is to chop the arms off of thieves.” He grabbed Cahara’s upraised arm, forcing him back into an upright position. “Should I do that? Make you feel at home, ja?” He twisted the mercenary’s arm back until it was in danger of popping, bones and tendons and cartilage protesting that this was not the way things were supposed to be. Cahara whimpered in pain and clawed at Ragnvaldr with his free hand, a reflexive motion more than a real attempt at self defense. After everything he’d been through in the dungeons, this at least was a familiar terror. A normal human being teaching him a lesson with pain.
“Please don’t, you don’t have to-”
“Shut up.” The barbarian crowded him into the wall of the mine. Another familiar feeling. Being pressed between rough stone and a large man with cruel intentions. “You saw the knight. The woman with the armor.” Cahara could barely move, but he nodded at the rhetorical question. “She’s a fool, dangerously wrong about things. All the same, she fights for something besides herself.” Cahara nodded again. He knew from painful experience that when someone wanted to teach you a lesson, that meant they were going to let you live, for a price. He just really hoped Ragnvaldr didn’t notice the erection struggling to burst out of his breeches. He was boxed in by a big slab of man, and old habits died hard.
“When you stole from us, I thought you were a worm. Like one of the creatures here, blinded by your own animal selfishness. But when cornered, you begged for the girl’s life, not yours.” This close, Cahara had to tilt his head back to look at Ragnvaldr. Not right in the eye, he knew it was important to look submissive as well as attentive. “So you can think of someone besides yourself, ja?
“Y-yeah, my wife-”
Ragnvaldr pressed his free hand into Cahara’s throat, further pinning him. His hand was big enough to choke him with the palm and fingers while putting a thumb to his lips. An oversized erection nudged Cahara’s belly from behind the warrior’s thin kilt. Which gave him another blood pumping rush of exhilarating fear. This, too, was familiar.
“So you’re going to come with us, which means I don’t need to break any pieces off you. And you won’t steal anything. You will not run away. You will not hide. You will stand and fight, except when you kneel to take my cock. Which will be often.”
Cahara couldn’t nod with a hand pressed to his throat. By way of agreement, he opened his lips and let the barb stuff a thick, rough thumb into his mouth. He shivered and clutched at the big man’s chest with his free hand. He'd been in this position before. It was far from his favorite, but it was familiar. Compared to the cell and the guards, this would be a cakewalk.
There was a pitter patter of bare feet on the stone floor, followed by the clanking sound of steel tassets. The girl ran into the dimly lit mine chamber, pursued by D’arce. Ragnvaldr took the thumb out of Cahara’s mouth with a wet pop. By the time D’arce got the child scooped up and under control, it just looked like the outlander had the mercenary pinned to the wall in a perfectly chaste display of violence. The girl kicked and struggled in D’arce’s grip, trying to cry out but not making any sound. The knight did everything she could to keep the kid under control without hurting her, a difficult task with so many metal edges and hard surfaces on her armor.
“Hey, hey it’s-” Cahara coughed. The outlander relaxed his grip. “It’s fine. We’re just talking. It’s okay.” The girl squirmed, clearly unconvinced, but stopped kicking and thrashing. “Go with her, I’ll come with you soon, I promise.”
The girl frowned and let herself be led away by the hand. The outlander squeezed Cahara’s throat, then released him. The thief took a ragged breath, hunched over and spat on the ground. Wiped his eyes. He rolled his shoulder to make sure nothing was broken. The Northerner had been careful to hurt him without damaging anything that would take time to repair. He waited a moment before picking up and re-buckling his sword belt, doing it slowly and making no sudden moves that might hint at a renegotiation of the deal.
Ragnvaldr stepped forward. Cahara braced himself to be hit again. Instead the Northman grabbed him roughly and tugged at the neck of his leather vest, exposing clavicle and shoulder. Cahara hissed when the outlander bit down on his shoulder, not hard enough to break skin but certainly enough to mark. His cock leaked a single humiliating drop into his pants, at the pain combined with the unmistakably sexual display of ownership. Ragnvaldr licked his lips and pulled the boiled leather back over the wound, so it would rub against the fresh bruise. A constant reminder of their bargain and of what Ragnvaldr would do to the mercenary the second they found a spare moment to fuck.
Well, two could play at that game. Cahara shamelessly reached into his pants and adjusted his dick, tucking it pointed up against the waistband so his erection wouldn’t get in the way if he had to run.
The outlander slapped him on the ass and shoved him down the tunnel.