Acclayne Book 1: The Game Begins

Stella had began to lose sense of time. The small windows in the two room shack had been covered over and only glimpses of daylight managed to trickle through. These glimpses had eventually winked out and the Princess assumed that it was once again night-time. She had been sleeping for most of the afternoon – she guessed, and her neck was stiff. Groaning; she rolled her head to ease the tension.

“'Bout time you woke up. Been sleeping all day you 'ave.”

“Oh I'm sorry, is there something else that I should be doing? Oh wait, I seem to be a bit tied up at the moment.” She sighed as she heard her captor walking around behind her. “Can I not at least get up and stretch my legs? This chair is terribly uncomfortable. I do not know why I cannot just be permitted to sleep on the bed-”

“-I tol' you, you'll just try an-”

“I mean, it feels as if the pattern of the wood has embedded itself in my skin; I'm awfully sensitive you know, my legs have fallen asleep and even my bottom is sore...” Stella continued on in this vain for quite some time, causing Alox to experience quite a similar level of discomfort. He had never heard a woman refer to her, um, bottom in quite so blasé a fashion before. He was rather taken aback.

“Well,” he eventually interrupted, “I suppose I could give ya a bathroom break.”

“Oh thank you!” She squealed. “Though I do not know if I would go so far as to call that broom closet a bathroom. I mean, I have wardrobes with more-” Stella held her tongue as she acknowledged the look on his face; he wasn't angry, exactly; more...hurt? She had not previously considered that this small hovel might actually be his home. “Bathroom break it is.” She smiled sweetly at him as he untied her. Instinctively she rubbed at her freed wrist and winced. Her skin was chafed and sore.

Alox looked at her; concerned. He had to admit that he wasn't entirely comfortable with kidnap. Not only was he finding it extremely inconvenient and irritating but he wasn't getting the thrill he would normally get from killing something. When you killed someone it was all over relatively quickly- that was unless it was a grudge job; he took his time over those. He grabbed her hand and turned it over to better examine the damage. Her hand was so small in his; and soft. He felt himself redden.

“Might have somethin' for that.” He grunted. “Go wash up first.” And with that he dropped her hand.

Stella looked up at him from her chair. It was the first bit of consideration he had shown her and she felt surprisingly overwhelmed by it. “Thank you.” She smiled and stood; stumbling slightly as the blood rushed down her legs.

Alox grunted. He hadn't been given instructions on how he should treat his hostage but this felt like the right thing to be doing. Nothing wrong with showing a lady a bit of decency; She may have got on his last nerve but that's what she was; a lady. No need for him to be getting all chatty with her though. He waved her away and she practically scampered to the bathroom.

“Is it all right if I wash my hair while I'm at it? I mean, that horrid stuff that you smoke is wreaking havoc with my hair. I don't think that I have ever smelt so bad, and how about a toothbrush? My breath is rancid, what was in that food you gave me last night? I mean, there is no excuse for poor dental hygiene...”

Alox groaned and wondered where he'd put that gag.

Stella closed her eyes and towel dried her hair as best she could without dwelling too much on the cleanliness of the only towel she'd managed to find in the bathroom. She felt so much better after a wash; she'd only managed to have three since she'd been kidnapped. It never failed to amaze her how much it lifted her spirits; everything seemed easier to cope with when her hair was clean and glossy.

As she rubbed herself down she eyed her gown. It was a pink number; all full skirts, bows and satin. Not the most forgiving of fabric she had to admit; it hugged every curve, even the ones that she didn't really want it to hug. She had pleaded with her father to let her have it; it was the fashion she told him authoritatively; positively everyone was wearing one. How could he have refused her that- he already denied her a social life; a fact that she used against him regularly. He hadn't liked it when he saw the way that it cinched her waist and surely the neckline was not supposed to be quite that low? But she had loved it; even when she had to refrain from eating whenever she wore it, there simply was not room for both her and food in that bodice. She revelled in every opportunity to wear it and so had chosen to wear it that fateful morning on her way into the town. Now, the mere sight of it lying in a crumpled pile on the floor made her feel sick. She couldn't possibly put it on again. It had become looser on her now; that was true, but it had lost all of it's sparkle. The flow of the fabric had been replaced with a horrid stiffness thanks to the crust of dirt that had worked it's way into the fibres of the material, the once bright pink had now dulled and the lace trimmings were hanging off after she had been so roughly man-handled. It was a shadow of itself; a poor excuse for a dress.

Wrapping the damp, dubious towel around herself she shuffled across the small room. There was a tall cupboard in the corner which she tentatively opened. She thought herself extremely rude, but then surely allowing a young woman to dress in the same clothes for this long was just as bad? Of course it was. If anything it was worse. Inside the cupboard she found shirts, vest tops and trousers. She picked up a shirt and examined it, she was pretty sure it was clean but it was certainly past it's prime. The cotton was worn at the elbows and it was now far from white, but, she reminded herself, it was clean and beggars cannot afford to be choosers. As she pulled it on she was thankful for her captor's size; the shirt fastened comfortably over her chest and hung loose over her stomach and legs; falling just short of her knees. It was hardly what she would call decent and so she opted for a pair of trousers as well. They were much too big on her and she found that as well as turning up the bottoms she also had to hold the waist band in order to stop them from falling down to her knees.

As Stella scrutinised her now predominantly dry hair in the mirror she heard a dull thudding noise coming from outside. Startled; she rushed through to the other room to find it empty. She was alone in the shack.

Alox had recognised the sound of rhythmic footfalls as soon as he'd heard it. He peered down the deserted road from his small doorway. They weren't passing by the hut at least; they were just sticking to the main road South, he couldn't risk being found- Fofana would have a complete meltdown. From where he was standing he couldn't make out who they were, but there sure was a lot of them – he was glad he was tucked away. He could take down a couple of men at a time but definitely not that many. They marched ceaselessly by until soon he could no longer see them, merely hear them marching as they headed South; away from Vallaylii and away from therm.

He turned to head inside; no need to stay out in the cold night air any longer than necessary, and; he thought, he should probably check on that troublesome girl – make sure she hadn't managed to drown herself in the bath. What he found when he opened the door was not what he'd expected. Huddled on the floor in the corner sat the Princess; eyes closed and whimpering quietly. She opened her eyes when she heard him close the door behind him, and her whimpering lessened.

“I thought I had been forgotten.” She said in a small voice when she had composed herself a little. Alox crossed the room slowly so as not to alarm her. He hadn't seen her this hopeless the whole time he'd been minding her; it was disconcerting.

“Nah, just some troops out on drill or somethin'” he said quietly. He stopped a few feet from her. “Them my clothes you're wearin'?” He asked, secretly amused.

“Y-y-yes.” She sniffled and he smiled at her. She looked so young huddled in the corner; drowning in his too-big shirt. She reminded him of his own daughter; the one he'd lost, along with his wife, the one time he'd refused to finish a job. He always finished what he started now. regardless, this girl was someone's daughter and right now she was all alone and scared.

“Let's get that cream on yer wrists shall we? It's Alox by the way.” He said. She smiled.