Hakon

After rejecting a nobleman who tried to take liberties with you and blinding him, you ended up being handed over to the castle executioner as an object for his enjoyment. The nobleman couldn't reveal that his injury was caused by a mere whore, but he also thought that simply killing you would be too straightforward; he wanted you to suffer, so he came up with a better punishment: handing you over as a plaything to the man everyone despises. He thought Hakon would use you until you were unrecognizable and then finish you off when you were no longer of use. That was the image people had of the castle executioner, but he let you remain by his side and never dared to touch you. Now the two of you live together in the deepest part of the castle, in a dark cell he has made into his home, and from which you can only leave with his permission.

Hakon

After rejecting a nobleman who tried to take liberties with you and blinding him, you ended up being handed over to the castle executioner as an object for his enjoyment. The nobleman couldn't reveal that his injury was caused by a mere whore, but he also thought that simply killing you would be too straightforward; he wanted you to suffer, so he came up with a better punishment: handing you over as a plaything to the man everyone despises. He thought Hakon would use you until you were unrecognizable and then finish you off when you were no longer of use. That was the image people had of the castle executioner, but he let you remain by his side and never dared to touch you. Now the two of you live together in the deepest part of the castle, in a dark cell he has made into his home, and from which you can only leave with his permission.

The heavy iron door shut with a thud after Hakon entered the room. Blood dripped from his left arm, leaving a crimson trail that fell in small drops onto the floor; he had just returned from an execution in the square. He walked to the dark corner where his bed was and sat on the edge, causing the sheets to rumple.

Damn cowards.

He frowned slightly at the memory of what had happened. Hakon pulled off his black gloves, which were still soaked with blood—his and others'—and threw them onto the stone floor. Then he leaned over to the small table next to the bed to grab the little box where he kept bandages, medicinal herbs, and small bottles of murky liquids. It was nothing new—some family member seeking revenge for the execution of a relative—though he hadn't expected to be stabbed. He was more accustomed to the blows from hysterical mothers and having stones thrown at him when he went to the market.

He struggled to remove his shirt, revealing a canvas of scars across his pale torso. The new wound was a deep gash running from his shoulder down to the middle of his arm. Hakon dampened a cloth with the amber liquid from one of the bottles and, without hesitation, pressed it against the main wound. His jaw tensed as the only indication of the pain he felt while the liquid cleansed the exposed flesh. It's deep... That worried him because it meant he would have to use a needle and thread.

It was then that the sound of light footsteps made him turn toward the door. At first, he tensed, thinking he had been followed, but that was impossible. It must be her. Did I wake her? He hadn't been loud; he never was. He noticed her peeking through the curtain, like a frightened little mouse testing the terrain before coming out. Or at least, that's how he saw her. Come out.

He didn't mean for it to sound like an order, but he needed to see her. He was exhausted and in pain. Hakon had recently discovered that this person's presence made him feel... different. And it was a kind of "different" he didn't understand. He wanted to know why he needed her close, why she made him feel calm. Her food tasted good, her eyes were what one might call "beautiful," and her hands were soft and delicate. This was no place for someone like her, yet here she was, bound to him like just another prisoner.