Underestimate Me

Rowen took a deep breath as he stood on shaky legs. He repeatedly told his body that there was nothing wrong, that he was fine, but the sound of the water chilled his bones while his eyes caught ever graceful touch certain women used to help others from their horses and donkeys while rain dampened their skin. The soft rain made his skin crawl with the desire to be clean while the desire in some of the women’s eyes became clearer. He shook his head, trying to rid his imagination of such thoughts as the women’s desires, and turned to give Ruth a last glance though she focused on her task. Her gentle hand caressed the nose of an uneasy horse while her lips moved in words silent to his ears but calming to the animal. Something deep down within Rowen’s soul did not want to leave her alone, not when he knew what his father’s men were capable of, but her sisters showed no distress over the matter. Ruth could probably take better care of herself than he realized, just as most of these women could handle themselves in battle. His worries would not silence for the kind woman until he left her a simple prayer; Balor, protect her.

His legs managed to carry him past the slippery moss and through the waterfall. Women still made a strong effort to turn around and help others. Rowen watched a particular couple walk along the path; the first was tall with shoulder length blonde hair, narrow shoulders, and long fingers while her partner was about four inches shorter with dull red locks broad shoulders for a woman and a heart shaped face. The blonde turned and reached for her partners hand as she stumbled upon a rock that was a little too slippery. The redhead curled her fingers through the blonde’s. Their movements pulled them closer together until they both had the other wrapped in a semi embrace as they walked. Again Rowen shook the thoughts from his imagination as he focused on anything else, like the silence that still loomed in the air under the overwhelming crashing of the waterfall’s wrath. The quietness never lifted until each woman passed the water barrier. It was a thunderous place hidden from even Josselyn’s new family. Why would she bring me here?

Rowen collapsed near large, pointy rock for a moment before forcing his way back to his feet. He continued to the muddy area where his guard for the night led him. The noise from the heavy water fell into a soft humming lull at this point, it sooth Rowen and his bickering mind. This woman, his guard, was more silent than the rest he had the pleasure of meeting; she was a welcomed change to his racing thoughts.

He idly watched as Meredith’s tent rose; every now and again her eyes would linger over Josselyn’s body, her fingers would graze Joss’s hand as she handed the woman a tool to help the ascent of the structure. Once it was finished Josselyn entered first only holding Meredith’s hand for a moment before she let the cold swordswoman follow. Memories of the last few nights swirled through him like a hurricane. Meredith always spent her nights in Josselyn’s tent, and Joss allowed it. Why was she always with Josselyn? Rowen noticed the small caresses, the longing glances, and the desperation coming from Meredith, but not once had he seen Josselyn return her feelings, nothing more than a lingering comforting hand. Unlike some of the women that passed him by. Were these women self-sufficient in this case too? His stomach churned as he thought of Josselyn in bed with anyone else. Could she be…? NO! Rowen shook his head harder than he had before, giving himself a fierce ache before he stopped. He could not, would not, allow himself to think of the woman that drove him to the point of madness with anyone else.

Rowen let himself observed the women closer. As he studied them, he realized that some of them did not find just familial bonds within the confines of their pack. Like the blonde and the redhead, he witnessed a small lingering kiss on the shoulder, too close to the neck to mean simple friendship. No one commented on it; no one ever mentioned the relationships between the women other than calling one another ‘sister.’ The bond between Josselyn and Meredith was left to his overactive imagination for no one would speak of it, and would most likely have his head if he asked. It didn’t matter because he could not bring himself to know the truth. He told his body another lie; they are just sisters, just family, and nothing more. The silence of their private lives seemed a great idea on their part, Rowen always felt that no one needed to know his actions when it came to romantic ideations in the village, although most of those stupid wenches gossiped like wildfire. None of them got trouble from Elrik, because he could not prove his eldest son’s indiscretions, not until the fateful night with Josselyn. He had more than his fair share of women, curiosity and lust swelled inside him during his teenage years, but there was something more about the betrothal that he would not agree to until the day he left the village to find these women.

Rowen did not belong tied to a pole amongst these people. He belonged in his home. Maybe he was stupid not to scream when they passed the ‘quite zone.’ Taking on more responsibility from Elrik was definitely an ignorant move.

He took a deep breath to relax his mind, his body. The scent of fresh water and flowers filled him as he leaned his head against the pole that had been situated again. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Sleep fell on him faster than it ever had before, but that might be the worst thing that could have happened to him.

~~~

Merek watched his father pour over different choices for his brother. No girl in the village was good enough for the eldest son of Elrik, which meant Rowen’s betrothed must come from one of the surrounding realms. The daughter of some other Head in the area might do him justice, but it was doubtful that even royalty would be good enough.

Since his scene with Hadrian, Merek was not permitted to leave his chambers for any reason other than relieving his bladder. Food and water were brought to him, but he did not get his favorite ale or spiced wine. Elrik said something about his drunken actions caused everyone pain while it humored Merek. Seeing Rebecca with that monster of a man did not humor him; it sickened him.

He growled under his breath before he made a very bad, very brash, decision. Merek climbed out of the window in his room and ran. He didn’t know where to go or what to do, but he let his feet carry him the same way the wind carried dandelion seeds.

“I cannot stay cooped up, under his rancid thumb, for so long,” Merek said to himself. Nothing made sense in his head and he wondered if anything ever would.

When he took the time to notice his surroundings, he realized he stopped just before Sir Uwen’s door step. Why had he come here? Uwen certainly would contact Elrik if he saw him standing there with a rabid dog expression on his features. Merek forced his feet to move again. He should be in that forest looking for his brother, but he couldn’t bring himself to linger too close to the tree line. If the soldiers caught him and drug him back...there’s no telling what Elrik might do to his youngest son.

He checked to make sure no one was in hearing distance before he looked toward the sky. “Balor, how could you do this to me? Why would you put me in this place?” Merek balled his fist and hit the nearest fence post before he sucked in another deel breath. “How could you take the only one who cared?”

Merek shook the last question from his mind. Maybe Rowen didn’t care as much as he tried too? Maybe he was like Elrik too, just a kinder version? After all, Rowen did betray his family for a night with a woman who never showed any signs of love toward him, except kindness to his frail little brother. Merek scoled himself for thinking of the word frail to describe the young boy he used to be. Pampered by Rowen might possibly be the best way to put it.

Merek turned, on the verge of returning to his prision, when someone grasped his shoulder. He cringed with the thoughts of the beating he was going to recieve when he was returned like a child. However, the hand on his shoulder possessed a soft voice which said, “Uwen spotted you from his window. You should hurry before the letter reaches your father.”

Merek smiled at the older woman, Uwen’s wife, before he raced with the wind to the window where he escaped for only a moment.