Chamberlain Roleplays: Rape of the Queen

Catherine 7.1.16 Commonyr

The Sirion war banners had not been unexpected but were an unwelcome sight in the field at Commonyr. She wondered in part why she had left the city. Her new roles saw her at the head of nine men at best and compared to the units she was used to fielding, these men were green recruits with much to prove. After the first battle she had been left with but four, they had stood as a bodyguard for the most part, and as the armies of Sirion darkened the field she was once more flanked by the four men.

Ecthelions horse moved with purpose along the lines of the nobility her people were to face. As the horns blew signalling the attack he moved with the same purpose directly for her position with the small posse of men. The horses thundered toward them and Catherine was warmed to see that the small troupe held their nerve standing between her and the Death Riders. Their bravery though was to be short lived, in the carnage that marks near one-hundred and twenty riders against four men, all of them fell. Catherine remained defiant, her dirk drawn she raised her arm in challenge to Ecthelion. The horses had formed a brief circle about her, Ecthelion himself ensconced at their rear.

Four dismounted, walking with purpose toward her. She had nowhere to go, the dirk seemed little threat to the group of men about her.

"Garas whore," one of the men snarled as he grabbed at her outstretched arm. She pulled her free hand across her abdomen, a deep fear gripping her that they might hurt the child that had been sending spasms of pain through her body himself over the past few hours. The man took her chin roughly in his hand turning her head to his colleagues. The wound under her right arm pulsed with pain, turning the fabric of her tunic a spreading black. "Shes still fair, even without the crown of Nivemus," he leered licking her cheek. She was frozen in the gulf between fear and defiance, in disbelief that Ecthelion would allow her to be abused in this fashion.

Her eyes betrayed her and tears ran freely down her cheeks as the men pushed her to the ground, pulling at her skirts. Some of the horsemen turned away as the four held her down. Her arms pinned back she let forth with savage screams in fear for the child she carried. Rage blinded her and she struggled against the men with all that she could. She was only dimly aware that the circle of horses was moving from her, and felt almost triumphal as she felt the pressure of the four being lifted. Then she saw the arrows in the hides of some of the horses, some of the men slumped in their saddles. With the cry of: "The Prime Minister has fallen!" she was released, pulling herself back from the dismounted men.

Three turned from her quickly resuming their mounts, but the fourth turned back, fearing a kick she pulled her knees to her abdomen shielding herself, head down, but the pain was instead in her side again, he forced the short knife back into the black wound, twisting as he thrust, she opened her mouth to scream but no sound came forth. Pulling back her hair, he spat in her face: "Hurts, doesn't it..." He sneered turning from her to return to his horse.

She looked in anger and anguish at the growing stain on her tunic and the retreating figure of the man. She had no weapon in reach but for the knife now in her side. Gritting her teeth she pulled it out, a fresh wave of pain went through her body from head to toes, and the world turned black.