The Book of Twyla

The following morning, Twyla demanded to be released from bed, claiming that she needed fresh air and could not remain cooped inside, despite the luxuries Arthas’ cabin provided. He had (reluctantly) allowed her to go out onto the deck, wrapped securely in her cloak.



She had wandered on deck, moving past soldiers, some pausing, asking her if she needed assistance or how she fared. She merely gave a faint smile in reply, assuring them that she was well enough for now as she made her way to the prow of the ship. Once there she placed her hands on the railing, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath of the bitingly cold air. The ship was surrounded by a grey mist, and a light sprinkle of snow was falling.



“You are as thin and pale as a wraith.” A gentle voice chided from behind her. “You should be resting still.”



Twyla opened her eyes and turned slightly, to find Captain Valonforth moving to join her at the rail.



“I could not remain inside any longer.” She admitted quietly, “I hate being cooped up. I always have.”



“You look as if you wish to win freedom by throwing yourself from the ship.” He muttered under his breath.



“I admit I contemplated as much for a moment.” She kept her voice low as well, not wanting to be overheard by anyone else. “He says I will marry him. There is no other choice I can make.” She confided, closing her eyes to blink back tears. Captain Valonforth quickly wrapped an arm around her shoulders, helping her to sit on an empty supply crate.



“You should be resting still.” He admonished, looking about to see if anyone else had noticed her weak spell. He then turned his full attention to her. “Do you wish to faint again?”



“I am made of sterner stuff than that.” She managed to smile, though her eyes were watery, “I merely need another meal or two until I am returned to my usual self.”



He gave a sigh. “I fear you need more than that, my lady.” He dropped his voice once more, “If I ever see an opportunity to grant you your freedom, I will see to it that you take it.”



She gave a bitter chuckle at that, looking out at what little of the horizon she could see through the fog. “I will never be free of this nightmare.” She finally said, “A nightmare that began with Stratholme, but will only end with my death. Whether I like it or no, he has me for that long now. I won’t be able to escape him, not fully, until then.” She gave a sigh, before frowning slightly, squinting her eyes in an attempt to see better. “Is that land?”



Captain Valonforth turned, barely able to make out a dark mass through the fog. “I believe it is.” He murmured, only a moment before the lookout began to cry out excitedly.



“Land ahead! Land ho!”







~*~







Arthas was busy that night, conferring with the ships captain, going over plans and strategies with Captain Valonforth, as well as countless other things. He had ordered that no-one was to make landfall until the next morning, and, while everyone was eager to get off the vessel, his orders were obeyed with (almost) no complaint.



Twyla dined alone in Arthas’ cabin that night, the solitude a relief. She ate slowly, waiting to be certain that each bite would remain in her stomach where it belonged, relieved when her stomach did not revolt. When she finished and the plates were cleared away, she washed, longing for a real bath, but luxuriating in the basin of warm water and her scented soaps. She dressed for bed in an old shirt of Vinwald’s that he had given her, for that express purpose.



Just imagine that it’s my arms around you when you wear it at night. She recalled him murmuring in her ear as he gave it to her, his lips tickling her ear before he moved to give her a kiss that made her knees weak and warmth pool in her belly.



Twyla found herself blinking back tears at the memory, only to find as she sat to write in her battered journal that neither tears nor memories would be banished so easily. She finally packed away her journal, before crawling into bed and succumbing to tears, crying herself to sleep in the end.



She did not wake when Arthas finally entered, and so did not see the possessive gaze he watched her with for long minutes, before he finally undressed quietly so not to disturb her and then extinguished the lanterns before finally getting into bed, wrapping his arms around her and drawing her close, earning a sleepy mumble of protest.



Twyla gave a slight frown, shifting slightly, slowly drawn from slumber by Arthas nuzzling her neck, his hand running down her side, then back up under her nightshirt, fingers caressing her skin lightly but insistently. When his hand reached her breast, he ran his thumb over a nipple, coaxing it to harness.



“Arthas?” She asked sleepily, lifting her head to try and look at him in the dark. Even in her sleep muddled state she knew what he was starting, what he wanted from her. She had hoped that he would leave her be for a time, because she had been ill if for no other reason.



“No words are needed tonight, my Twyla.” He murmured, hand moving down her body once more as he shifted, moving so he was atop her. He stroked at her core for a few moments, bowing his head to kiss her hungrily as his skilled fingers brought her nearly to her peak, before he withdrew his hand, positioning himself and entering her with a single thrust. He let out a moan against her lips, beginning to work in her with almost bruising force, lifting her legs and draping them over her shoulders, forgetting that a gentler approach might be best. Each thrust drew a cry from Twyla, who tried to stifle them, before she finally reached her peak, biting down on his shoulder to silence her cry.



He was focused only on his own pleasure, and had not tried to put her in the state her had for all their previous couplings, or else she would not have had the presence of mind to silence herself.



She had realized that she had been about to cry out his name.



She would not give him that, Twyla thought viciously, she would never give him that. He had taken too much from her, giving her almost nothing in return.



Arthas let out a grunt of surprise at the bite, but it did not cool his ardor. In fact, it seemed to have the opposite effect. He increased the force of his thrusts until Twyla felt he was going to split her in half. Finally, he found his own release, bowing his head and sinking his teeth into her shoulder, causing her to cry out loudly in pain. He moved to silence her cry with a tender kiss, letting her taste her blood on his lips.



“You truly are a treasure.” He chuckled, running his hands down her thighs and forcing her legs around his waist this time, “I am indeed glad I found you… And that you are mine.”



Not if I can find a way to get away. She thought darkly as he prepared to start again.