Breaking Providence (Original Fantasy)

She knew what was in store for her. Stripped naked, bent over in a pillory with her limbs pulled taut by rope in several different directions, Roka-Ra was quite aware of what they intended to do to her. The orcish Dark General was no one’s fool, after all. With her eyes covered by a blindfold, she may not be able to see her surroundings, but her ears have caught the sound of water droplets hitting stone and her nose has been filled with the distinct musky scent of underground for several hours now.
 
They’ve brought her beneath the earth, to the Cathedral’s dungeons. Here she is, awaiting her fate. And here she will die.
 
It won’t be an easy death, not by any stretch of the imagination. The fact that she’s naked and in a pillory tells her that much. As did the offer of a Subjugation Collar. They hadn’t tortured her. They hadn’t interrogated her. There was no need, in their eyes. Her defeat had been total, her Warband disbanded. No, they’d merely offered her their so-called ‘mercy’. They’d asked if she would repent and show remorse for her actions by accepting their collar. Hah, as if she was one of their sad, pathetic peasants, to submit so easily just because the Church deemed her ‘evil’.
 
Besides, Roka-Ra knew the trap for what it was. There was no world in which they would ‘forgive’ her. No world in which their mercy was anything but a fist wrapped in velvet. She would not be spared. All she could do, in the end, was fight in her own way. That was the secret that the big bad Church didn’t want its followers to know. The Subjugation Collars required consent. If the wearer did not agree to wear one, then they would not work.
 
Normally, the Church got around this by simply threatening to kill any of their peasants who dared refuse. If you Awakened with what they deemed an ‘Evil’ Job such as Thief, then you had two choices. Wear the collar or die.
 
But Roka-Ra knew she was already slated for death. Just as she knew that wearing the collar would not lessen her humiliation but add to it. They would no doubt take turns using her body before she expired. They would do whatever they liked with her exhausting her stamina and abusing her naked form until finally, she was dead. Whether it would be from the abuse, or their weapons, or simply from a lack of water or food or even sleep, Roka-Ra could not say just yet.
 
The collar wouldn’t have changed that. No, what it would have done was allow them to demand her obedience much easier. She would have been quite literally unable to say no to their orders and instructions. She would have been forced by the collar to participate in her own humiliation and degradation. She would have slowly but surely killed herself for them.
 
Needless to say, Roka-Ra wasn’t going to do that. She might be doomed, but that did not mean she would go easily. Which led her to the restraints she was in now. The pillory she was trapped within was enchanted with Holy Light and cut off its captive from their Job and abilities. Though, even if she could use her ability to expand in size and break free of the pillory, it wouldn’t have mattered. She’s fully aware that the rope binding and anchoring her to the walls, ceiling, and floor of the dungeon cell are also enchanted with Holy Light.
 
She’s not getting free. Her fate is sealed. Her death is assured and will more than likely be a long, painful affair. And yet… Roka-Ra finds herself strangely at peace with that. She doesn’t mind it. Not yet anyways. Who’s to say how she’ll feel once they start in on her. But for now? She’s okay with this being where she dies.
 
After all, she knows something that they don’t. A wicked, tusky grin spreads across the naked Dark General’s face, even as her vision remains covered by the blindfold. She knows the truth of the Church’s so-called ‘Destined Hero’.
 
… Tch, though she wishes she’d been a little faster on the uptake. If only it hadn’t taken her quite so long to believe the contents of the letter. But no… she was who she was, in the end. It was always going to take a battle with the boy in question for her to see the truth.
 
It was in the way he fought and the way he smelt. It was in every inch of his being. From afar, he’d looked like the quintessential Destined Hero. His armor had been lighter than the heavy plate that most of his paladin allies were wearing, but it had nevertheless gleamed with Holy Light. Meanwhile, his halberd had been damn near blinding to look at. He was, by all counts, the Destined Hero in the flesh.
 
No more was this clear to her than when Roka-Ra had come down on him like a ton of bricks and he’d held her at bay. Oh sure, she’d sent him skidding back… but a blow as strong as that should have split him in two. Or, if it was just the power of his weapon that held her off, it should have sent HIM flying. Instead, he’d been right back at in an instant.
 
Surely, that was the power of the Destined Hero at work. Or so Roka-Ra had initially thought. As the battle had gotten underway, she’d fought to kill and planned to do so early. A Destined Hero as young as him couldn’t be allowed to survive the battle. He would only get stronger, faster, and more skilled with time. Except… except, he was already pretty damn good. He was matching her blow for blow within minutes.
 
Worse than that though, was the scent. Her Big Sis’ scent, mixed with something else. If it was just Gral-Ra’s smell, Roka-Ra would have been able to dismiss it as nothing but a memory. As her mind playing tricks on her. She was well aware that some small part of her had wanted the letter to be telling the truth all along.
 
But no. Along with the scent came other signs. The way the half-orc fought. The way his face contorted. His eyes were human eyes set into an orc face, big and blue instead of sunken and black and beady. But his face… his face had traits of his mother in it. More than that, his natural fighting style mimicked Gral-Ra in ways Roka-Ra hated that she was picking up.
 
Gral-Ra’s weapon of choice had been a polearm, in comparison to the so-called Destined Hero’s halberd. They weren’t quite the same thing, but they were similar enough that Roka-Ra was forced to acknowledge the truth at a certain point. The similarities were stacking up far too fucking much.
 
She didn’t know how. If she hadn’t had the letter’s contents poisoning her mind, she probably never would have believed what she was seeing to be true. But in the end, it all came together and Roka-Ra knew that her opponent was her Big Sis’ son. Somehow, some way… Gral-Ra had had a son. And somehow, the Church had gotten their hooks in him.
 
Except, if the letter was to be believed, the Church had actually been bamboozled. They thought he was the Destined Hero, but the letter had assured Roka-Ra this wasn’t the case. It had told her he was in fact the Dark Lord in disguise.
 
… Heh, it hurt how much sense that made. After everything Roka-Ra had done to try and draw the Dark Lord to her, she’d managed to accomplish her goal… in the worst way imaginable. Instead of managing to bring the Dark Lord into the fold, she’d set herself against him. She couldn’t help but send a silent apology to Gral-Ra. She’d fucked up massively and very nearly ruined things for her Big Sis’ son. She should have known better. She was always the lowliest of the Dark Generals after all. She should have known her place.
 
Though, thinking back to the battle, Roka-Ra couldn’t help but wonder WHERE the letter had even come from. Because nothing in the so-called Destined Hero’s eyes had led her to believe that he knew about it. He’d come at her with a sort of raw determination and intensity that had impressed her, but nothing that spoke of feeling betrayed by her decision to wage war on the Holy Empire.
 
In the end, all that Roka-Ra could do was set him up for success. His decision to challenge her to Tah-Mak-Ah had been an excellent move. His defeat of her would solidify his victory. Of course, when he’d finally had her on her knees and demanded her surrender, Roka-Ra could admit that she’d hoped he would reveal himself and take control of the Warband, right then and there.
 
Even if she didn’t have a place at his side, it would have been his strongest move. He could have had the Crown Princess as his prisoner, and over a thousand orc warriors at his back. Unfortunately, that wasn’t what he’d chosen to do. He’d sent them all away and brought her back to the Capital in chains.
 
… Clearly Roka-Ra still didn’t fully understand the depths of his plans. Gral-Ra’s son must be every bit the strategist that his mother was, and Roka-Ra was just too much of a damn brute to comprehend the depths of his machinations. He very likely had incredibly good reasons for not blowing his cover there on the battlefield. He needed to maintain the subterfuge for a while longer, and even if Roka-Ra didn’t know why, that didn’t mean he was wrong to do so.
 
Though, if she did have the chance to give him counsel, she would have told him that his disguise could only last for so long before the real Destined Hero was likely discovered. Whatever he was doing to fool the Church into thinking HE was the Destined Hero surely had a shelf-life, right? There was no way he could keep up the act forever without being discovered.
 
… Ah, but ultimately, Roka-Ra didn’t have the right to voice such concerns. She didn’t have the right to speak a single word in the presence of her Big Sis’ son. She’d messed things up for Gral-Ra’s kid enough already. If this was where she would best serve his plans… then so be it. If her death here tonight satisfied some sort of gambit the Dark Lord was trying to play, then Roka-Ra would die happily, no matter what the bastards did to her. She was sure that Gral-Ra’s blood would ring true. Ultimately, the Dark Lord would be her instrument of revenge.
 
Let them do whatever they wanted with her. Let them fuck her. Let them hurt her. Let them visit indignity and depravity and perversion upon her. She would take it all with a vicious grin on her face. And if they weren’t careful, she would break free and tear their fucking cocks off before they finally put her down.
 
Yes… Roka-Ra had made peace with death. It didn’t mean she would go easy, but she would go if this was her time. For the sake of the Dark Lord. For the sake of Gral-Ra’s son she would-
 
C-CRASH!
 
Roka-Ra’s entire body jolts as she’s taken out of her inner musings by the sounds of something slamming into the floor nearby. It takes her a moment to place the noise, but if she had to guess, it sounds like someone in full plate armor being tossed down the dungeon stairs. Roka-Ra frowns, as shouting reaches her ears.
 
“Sir Hero, what are you-urk!”
 
“Where is she?! Which cell is the Dark General in?!”
 
The now-familiar voice of Gral-Ra’s son causes Roka-Ra to blink under her blindfold. What… what was he doing? A scant few seconds later, there’s the sound of metal screeching against metal only a few feet away from her as the door to her cell is no doubt torn off of its hinges. She can only assume, of course… until that is, a hand roughly tears the blindfold from her eyes, forcing Roka-Ra to blink rapidly as she adjusts to the torchlight right in front of her face.
 
Gral-Ra’s son looks down at her, frowning. As a matter of course, Roka-Ra knows rage quite well. She’s lived it all her life, after all. She also saw it in his eyes right alongside the determination back during their fight. Now she sees it again, once more alongside determination and resolve. However, this time the rage isn’t directed at her, but at her circumstances.
 
“What… what are you doing?”
 
Her voice is raspy from disuse. She hasn’t said a word in the days since the battle. Hasn’t done much of anything but spit at the feet of those Church flunkies who tried to get her to wear the collar. For a moment, the Dark Lord just grimaces in silence. Then, he shakes his head and grabs at the pillory.
 
“Getting you out of here.”
 
He rips the pillory open. In an instant, Roka-Ra’s abilities come back to her, her Job fully reasserting itself. She gasps and tries to straighten up, but the ropes are still holding her down. With a snarl, she tears them apart with her bare hands, growing a head taller in the process as her naked muscles bulge and a snarl explodes from her lips.
 
“Why?! You’re ruining your cover!”
 
The Dark Lord stares at her for a long moment before answering.
 
“I know. Some things are more important than that.”
 
Some things… like her? Roka-Ra has to admit, she’s a bit flummoxed by his words. He was here to save her? But she thought her death, no matter how degrading and ignoble it was looking likely to be, was part of HIS plan?! And now he was throwing it all away?! What the fuck was going on?
 
Unfortunately, the hits don’t end there.
 
“Angelina! Please heal the Dark General!”
 
“O-Of course, Sir Hero…”
 
Roka-Ra just stares as a blonde Holy Priestess steps into the room and casts a spell at her. For a moment, she’s sure that the spell is actually offensive in nature… but no. It washes over her and heals Roka-Ra of her aches, restoring her trembling muscles. She’d been working on fumes before, after spending hours naked and bound in the pillory. But all of the sudden, she feels downright refreshed.
 
The Dark General opens her mouth to demand another explanation, but before she can do so, a Beastkin comes into the room lugging a massive chest behind her. When the lithe cat girl kicks the chest open, Roka-Ra’s eyes widen at the sight of her armor stuffed within. However, what truly surprises her is the look of outright vitriol in the Thief’s eyes.
 
“Your armor, General.”
 
And boy, that’s some serious hatred in her voice as well. All directed at Roka-Ra. However, she really doesn’t have time to question it.
 
“Get dressed. We have minutes at most.”
 
The Dark Lord orders and she must obey. Except… Roka-Ra has to admit, at this point she has to know. He’s right, they only have minutes… but it’s the work of seconds to finally turn and cast the Identification Sign on him. She hadn’t gotten a chance before. Before their fight, she hadn’t cared. During their fight there hadn’t been a time for it, not with so many eyes on them. After… well, after there’d been no opportunity.
 
So she does it now, and watches as the Identification Sign returns what she already had come to believe in her heart of hearts. The half-orc man before her, Gral-Ra’s son… IS the Dark Lord.
 
Letting out an explosive breath of air, Roka-Ra leaps to the chest and begins equipping her armor. It doesn’t take long; it was made for her after all. Her sword, however, is nowhere to be seen. Almost as if he’s read her mind, the Dark Lord grunts.
 
“… Sorry, but your sword was taken by the Church’s Chief Blacksmith. I saw it when I retrieved my halberd before coming down here, but I didn’t have a way of getting it from him without a fight. And we don’t have the time to go back for it now. Come.”
 
For a moment, Roka-Ra feels a pang of loss. Part of her wants to argue with the Dark Lord… but she knows he’s right. She may not be sure what the fuck is going on at this point, but it’s not like she has any choice but to follow his lead if she wants to get not just herself but him out of here alive. And making sure Gral-Ra’s son survives betraying the Church like this has abruptly become Priority Number One.
 
… There would be time to figure shit out later if they escaped. Now? Now was the time to get away. Slamming her helm down upon her head, Roka-Ra gives the Dark Lord a nod.
 
“Lead the way.”
 
And with that… they run.

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