The Conquered's Choice Pt. 01

Trigger warning: Contains battlefield violence, slightly gorey at times. Despite the subject matter there are no explicit scenes of male-on-female rape, but there are references made to it. However there is female-on-male coercion, reluctance, cheating and betrayal.

This one got a little longer than I anticipated, so I split it in two, but there's still some 'fun' to be had along the way, and hopefully the climax is worth it. Part 2 is basically finished already and coming soon.

Enjoy.

* * * * *

Dearest Volren,

It's so amazing, knowing you're still alive and so close now. It almost seems surreal. So close yet so far. Every hold and region you have won to your cause has driven my excitement higher, and now we finally near the exhilarating climax of your heroic quest.

I apologize that it has taken me 2 full days since your army arrived to send you another letter. I've been afraid, with your forces just outside the city now, that someone might see my dove flying from my window and follow his flight, straight to your army as he has been trained so well to do. I've had to find a way to release him more discretely, to keep our treasonous exchanges secret, but I believe I have.

I hope he finds you well. Every battle you fight makes me sick with worry that you might fall to an errant arrow. Every letter you return to me drives me wild with joy to know that you haven't. You are the true hero of this war. I hope your Arch-Chieftain knows this, that you are a man not only with prowess in battle, but with the wisdom and humanity to win over the people with your words. A man he should strive to imitate. A man this realm needs. A man I can't wait to meet.

So know this, I have heard that my king plans to attack in the dead of night tonight. He may use the side gates in hope that you don't detect them until it's too late. I am sure they will be seen anyway, but I feel like I must warn you nonetheless. Stay safe my gallant hero. I lie awake at night dreaming of what I might do when we finally meet. Do you?

Your secret dove,

-ZEA

* * * * *

Volren thrust his sword and felt the familiar resistance of flesh against the blade. The warmth of the soldiers blood spilling through the chainmail and on to his hands, the gasp of disbelief from the man's lips, were all too familiar sensations. He pushed the man over and let the blade slide out of his belly, listening to him writhe and groan as he scanned the battlefield around him to make sure he wasn't in imminent danger.

Volren decided the man might not exsanguinate immediately and instead be left to slowly perish, so he mercifully took the time to place his blade on his neck and slice into his artery. Blood flowed forth like a torrent and the man was still in seconds.

He was doing that more often, he found. He had grown more embittered with war. He still believed in their cause, but the human cost seemed to cut deeper in to his thoughts. Every time a hold or region either fell to them or joined them, it struck him how arbitrary it seemed whether men fought beside him as brethren, or fought against him to the death, simply on the whims of their leaders.

He shook the thoughts from his head, knowing they were worse than useless at a time like this. As he wiped the blood from his hands, he scanned the field farther out and saw the line of battle had moved forward. He smiled. They were winning, and far more quickly than he had even hoped. It wasn't yet a rout though. He saw where the blue chainmail-clad royal soldiers seemed to outnumber his brown banded-leather-clad Kelvik brothers, and traversed the corpse-strewn field to join them.

He kept his running momentum and swung his sword with a bellow to slice the head clean off a soldier that was about to stab one of his men on the ground, and shared a brief grin with the relieved man, wondering if he'd spared him from pissing himself or not.

He took on one of the remaining soldiers, but perhaps had let his ego get to him, as he confidently parried the mans attack, but failed to notice the mace being flung at him from the side and barely managed to twist away in time so only the handle of it caught his shoulder. He struggled to regain his footing and wasn't able to get his sword up in time to properly deflect the swordsman's next attack, suffering a cut to his arm and getting his arms entangled with the man. He watched helplessly as the soldier with the mace stood again and wound up to strike him, but suddenly an arrow impaled his neck and he fell.

Vol smiled, recognizing the arrow, and thrust his shoulder into the other swordsman's chest, knocking him backwards. He deliberately dropped his sword to untangle his arms from the man, but caught it again before it hit the ground. Vol moved at the soldier before he could regain his footing and was surprised when his sword was still parried not once but twice. Not a third though, and the soldier screamed as his hand was hewn clean off. He dropped to his knees in stunned defeat and Vol quickly put his sword point above his collarbone and thrust down into his chest. A sickening gurgling sound for a few moments followed by the thud of his dead body and Volren breathed a sigh of relief.

He looked in the direction the arrow had come from and smiled wide seeing Balia, his warrior-maiden love. It wasn't the first time she had saved him on the battlefield and he hoped it wasn't the last. He wanted to run to her, but she simply winked and ran in the opposite direction, making it easier for him to keep his mind on task and turn away to face the battle line again.

The sun was just about to peak above the horizon. The king had indeed thought that sending his forces out of the city gates to attack in the dead of night, just a couple hours before sunrise, would take their army off-guard. Even without Vol's letter from his secret admirer, the surprise wouldn't have worked. Their scouts and night-guard were vigilant as ever, and even if most of the army had been sleeping, they had been ready soon enough to meet the attack.

He was surprised they hadn't broken and retreated back within the gates yet. They must be getting desperate, likely ordered to break the siege or else. That bode well. Perhaps few battles remained before they could finally rest, and Groldur will have led them to victory.

Just as he thought of the man he saw his arch-chieftain facing off against a paladin to the side of the main melee. He smiled in pride and started towards them to support his friend and leader. The paladin was larger than usual and towered in his shining plate-armour above Groldur. Volren did not fear for him though, confident in his prowess in battle even among larger foes. He watched with a smile as Groldur expertly ducked under a wide lumbering swing of the paladin's sword and brought his own around in a quick swing to slice off his arm.

...only it didn't. The paladin flexed his elbow as the sword struck and it wedged in the joint of his armor. Groldur pulled hard but the sword didn't budge. A confused and angry look on his face was the last expression Volren saw before the paladin's shield struck Groldur's head which ricocheted off the other man's gauntlet and he fell like a rag doll. After he struck the ground he was only allowed a second to writhe and open his eyes just in time to see the paladin's sword swing down and slice his head off in one clean blow.

Volren yelled out hoarsely in disbelief. He fell to his knees with his eyes opening wide, as if trying to see more clearly would let him see that his eyes were deceived, and this wasn't really happening. There was no mistaking that Groldur was dead though. Not as the paladin picked his decapitated head up by the hair and bellowed out in victory, receiving a newly inspired cheer from his remaining men. He twirled it around and tossed it towards the Kelviks.

However, the lumbering man only took two steps forwards before Volren's flying kick took him off guard, hitting him square in the side and toppling him over. Vol fell with him, but was able to vault off of his shoulder and stabbed the point of his sword through the eye-hole of his helmet as he flew past. Vol rolled to standing, and gave a furious grin seeing fresh blood on the tip of his blade, wishing he could have thrust it deeper.

He was only allowed half a second to appreciate it before he had to jump back away from the paladin's massive vertical sword-swing, shaking the ground under Vol's feet as it struck. He had hoped to attack him again before he stood up, but the paladin was quicker than he predicted. Vol had to veer his attack off to the side as the paladin regained his ready-stance before he got to him, and had to settle for a challenging clang on the heavy blue shield as he backed away and stared him down. He could see bloody flesh behind one eye-hole but it would take more than that to take this man down.

The paladin charged, like a juggernaut of metal. He was obviously pissed. Good. Vol didn't know how the man could move that fast in the heavy, awkward plate-armor, preferring the lighter boiled-leather banded with steel, himself. It was light enough to be able to move quickly, and protected against most attacks. ...most, but against this man, he almost felt naked. Vol was taller than average and well toned, but seemed skinny and light compared to this lumbering beast. He would have to rely on his agility and speed.

Vol faked stupidity, and took a stance that made it look like he was ready to meet the paladin's charge head on, blade-for-blade. At the last moment though, he ducked to the side, jamming his sword between the man's ankles and bracing against the hilt. He had hoped the force would be enough to slice through one of his ankles, but he had to settle for tripping him.

He almost worried his sword would snap from the force, but it held strong. Vol slid it out quickly from his ankles and jammed his full weight against the hilt to ram it into the man's knee joint. He felt it blessedly give way and a satisfying bellow erupted from the paladin as it sunk into the flesh of his knee. Vol pulled back and thankfully was able to dislodge it, tripping backwards serendipitously to avoid a swing of the other man's shield flying less than an inch beyond his nose.

Vol backed away to catch his breath and get his bearings, letting himself feel a shred of hope as the paladin limped on his leg, but he clearly wasn't backing down. Vol tried a quick leaping attack from the side but the paladin's shield was able to catch his sword and only a glancing blow was landed to his shoulder, and Vol barely got his sword up again in time to deflect away his powerful counter-attack.

Vol panted hard, wishing he had more time to think as the paladin spun quickly toward him again. An arrow glanced off the armour of his neck almost pitifully. One of Balia's. Vol didn't let it dissuade him though and used the momentary distraction to leap forward and swing directly at the paladin's fingers. He struck home. The fingers didn't slice off, but bent under Vol's blow as the man yelled and dropped his massive sword. As Vol spun though, the paladin's heavy shield struck him with full force on his shoulder. It was as well as he could have braced against such a blow, and had it struck the back of his head he would have been drooling for days or dead, but it knocked the wind out of him and still whiplashed his head in a painful, defeating way. His sword fell at his feet and he struck the ground just as Groldur had.

His blurred vision was only just able to make out the paladin picking up his sword with bloody, bent fingers and lifting it high to strike the death-blow. Vol wasn't sure how his shaken brain managed to find the will to live, but somehow he found it. He remembered the paladin only had one good leg, and gave one desperate kick at his ankle while reaching for his own sword.

The foot gave way. As it slipped back the paladin gave a shout of pain with all of his weight suddenly on his mangled knee. Vol lifted his sword, and tilted it up just in time to catch under the paladin's chest-plate as he fell. He only fell onto his knees, but it was enough. Vol held the sword from slipping to the side as it was pinned under the man's weight, and felt the glorious break of the armour's join as the sword plunged into the paladin's guts.

The big man bellowed out in pain and lurched to the side taking the sword with him. Vol leaped up quickly, as the man rolled onto his back. Vol's head was still spinning, but he managed to find the sword hilt and thrust his weight into it, twisting hard, and making the paladin bellow out in a more vulnerable and tortured sound this time. He pulled and was relieved the sword managed to come free. Dodging easily away from a weak swing of the other man's shield that sent it flying away from him as his fingers lost their strength. Blood came out of the hole in the man's armour like a babbling brook and he groaned.

Vol looked around and saw that his Kelvik men had rallied and beaten back the remaining royal forces, who were finally breaking and retreating to the city walls. He saw Balia, closer than the rest, pulling her dagger from a man's throat, likely having been trying to fight her way over to him. She met his eyes as he stood over the defeated paladin and he saw her lifting her chest in a deep relieved breath, giving him a beautiful knowing smile, then turning away again. Vol's chest twisted in pride for a moment before he remembered Groldur, and looked back down at the paladin with a scowl.

He walked up and kicked his helmet off to see the face of the man who had killed the heroic Arch-Chieftain of his Kelviks. He wanted to gaze at a monster that he could hate forever for stealing Groldur's life away. Instead, he saw the face of a normal man, so like himself, with a bitter smirk and a spirited look in his remaining eye.

"Well fought kelp," the man coughed out hoarsely, using the royal's derogatory term for his clan. Though it had the feel of good-hearted joking.

"You killed Groldur." Volren said, just as hoarsely.

"I did. Can't think of a better way to go honestly. He was a hell of a warrior, and leader," the man said, grimacing in pain.

Vol simply narrowed his eyes. "What's your name?"

"Feldig. Shit I thought you knew. Guess I'm not as infamous as I'd hoped. You're his second man right? Recognized you from the those first failed negotiations a few days ag-" he coughed and sputtered, his lips staining with blood.

"My name is Volren," he said.

"Right, that was it. Got big shoes to fill now." the man said with a wide bloody grin.

Vol brought his sword down to the man's throat.

"Letting me off easy? Well fuck me, I thought you'd have them draw and quarter me alive."

"Tell me about the King's forces, and I'll give you a quicker death."

Feldig chuckled, "Well that's awful nice I would've told you anyway." He shook his head, "What forces? The fucker's spent. Idiot didn't think your not-so-little rebellion would ever make it this far. Threw a trantrum with every hold that joined your cause. He's got maybe a few hundred left, and that'd be generous. Trying to get peasants to learn how to hold a spear he's so despera-ughgll," Feldig gurgled and groaned. "This was supposed to be it. The last battle to drive you off. Stubborn bastard's probably still gonna dig in his heels though."

Vol felt his heart lift despite everything else, hoping the man wasn't lying to give him false confidence, but he doubted it.

Vol thought, and then ventured, "Does he have the full support of the remaining regions?"

Feldig smiled again, but his face was quickly looking more pale, "Barely. They sent him money and levies cause they knew he was the buffer between you and themmm-urrgh, but not as much as he wanted. I th... think they'll turn easy enough if you sack the capital." He coughed and sputtered again "I'm sure you know by now... rrrhhhh you're not the only ones that were fed up with this excuse of a king. Just the first to do something about it."

Vol nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you... for honesty Feldig," he said, begrudgingly.

Feldig gave a painful weak smile, his voice a hoarse whisper now, "C'mon don't look so dour young man. You've all but won. I think you got it in you to finish the job, I think I can see it now. You're gonna breach those city walls, walk into that palace, impale that fucker through the chest, and ravage that sweet wife of his till sunrise. I'd call it a premonition except even a blind man could see it. I only wish I was there to watch it myself."

Vol simply frowned, "I'll be aiming for a more peaceful resolution."

"Good luck with that," Feldig whispered, winking his mangled eye. "Alright, get it over with."

Vol pressed his sword into the skin.

Feldig spoke even as the point broke through, "See you on the other sid-..." his words caught as the sword plunged in, and a waterfall of blood rushed out from his neck to stain the brown earth below him, as his face went still.

Volren sunk to his knees, as the sun's first rays shone triumphantly over the battlefield. He tried to feel pride at his army's victory. He stared at the routing forces, chasing the meager remnants of their enemy back to the wall, but he seemed to stare beyond them, to his uncertain future, and his shoulders felt heavier than they ever had before.

* * * * *

The funeral pyre roared in the late morning sun. Groldur's body was barely visible anymore as the mass of flames engulfed him. The spiritsinger finished his song, a low droning dirge in the elder language that Volren only knew a few words of. The screeching wails of Resla, Groldur's widow, were the only sounds remaining as she lay on the ground in front of them, invisible under her black hooded cloak. Eventually, even her voice faded to a whimper and then fell silent.

Volren felt no shame as a tear fell down his face, his hard expression unchanging, but his breath shuddering for a moment. Balia squeezed his hand next to him and he squeezed back affectionately, but did not look away from the flames. He wanted this image burned into his mind. An eternal reminder of the tragic cost of war, and a fate that could befall him at any moment.

Finally, after a few more minutes of silence, Crolsef, the oldest of the chiefs, stepped forward to speak.

"Groldur was a great man. An Arch-Chieftain that will go down in legend. Though new to his post, he had the wisdom to see the suffering of his Kelvik people, and the courage to say, enough! He inspired us to finally take up arms against our despot ruler, making us believe that it could be done, and he was right! He is still right! Though many of us grumbled and voiced our doubts, he made us all believe. He will continue to make us believe, even after death. That power must be earned! That the right to rule must be gained through respect of the people of the realm, and honouring the bonds and pacts that made this land a great nation of allies for so long. That a king that breaks these bonds has no right to rule! His memory will forever symbolize these great truths, for us, and our children and our descendants, forever!"

A chorus of approving words came from the gathered chiefs and warriors.

"Alas, he died before he could see his vision through. Tragically cut short by the scourge paladin Feldig. Though his death was avenged heroically by his close comrade and our first-warrior Volren, bringing honour to him, and us all!"

Another chorus of supporting words and brief cheers came from the crowd. Volren never moved, but felt Balia squeeze his hand tighter and pull herself close to him in pride.

"Let us raise our swords so we may also honour the great Groldur! And vow to finish the great quest he started!"

Vol unsheathed his sword and heard the loud thrum of the crowd of warriors behind him doing the same, but he never took his eyes off the flames. Even after their cheers and shouting of Groldurs name, even after the procession of chiefs and soldiers moved along in front of him tossing wreaths of woven grass into the flames in tribute to his soul, Volren never moved and never took his eyes off the burning bright heat of the fire. He wanted it to consume him. He wanted to stand there forever, afraid to face what was coming next.