Mistress Morrigan

*Chapter One - Captive*

She smiled seductively at the man sitting across the meadow.

"Mistress?" She turned to face the D'Haran soldier, bristling with weapons.

"Yes?" She answered, slightly annoyed. She flicked her long, dark braid over her shoulder, waiting for his reply.

"Erm, well..." he started, now unnerved by her unwavering green eyed stare. "Shouldn't we get around to capturing him now?" She thought for a moment, turning back to the painfully handsome man. He had dark hair, and she could tell, even sitting down as he was, he was tall. He was a strapping man, his face pleasant to look upon. He surprisingly hadn't noticed them yet.

"Yes," she said, in a distant voice, rolling her Agiel between her fingers. "We should. Come along. Now." They all jumped up at her order. As they made their way to the meadow, he finally looked up. She almost stopped. His eyes were beautiful. They were gray, with a very dark, defined limbal ring. She somehow, for a moment, got lost in them. She shook her head, and kept going. He scrambled to his feet when he saw their party approaching. He looked more worried of the burly D'Harans than of her, a mere woman.

A 'mere' woman. His eyes were drawn to her. Of course they were, I thought to myself, I am mord-sith, after all. And I must say, I do look striking in my leather. And she did. My 'training' made her lean, and muscular. Not so muscular as to be very large, but enough to give her a defined shape, curves, and for her to hold her own very well. The leather went from her neck to her ankles, but left nothing to the imagination. It was blood red, and had a yellow crescent moon and star on the stomach, the symbol of the House of Rahl.

She could tell by the way he glared at them, that he would indeed use his magic. Now, it only depended on when he would use it on Morrigan. Frankly, she didn't care if he killed every last D'Haran behind her. He smiles woodenly, coldly, at them, and her men are suddenly thrown back. One gets skewered on his own sword, and the other is thrown into a tree, and did not get back up. The other's however, did, and advanced on him. She watched with a small smile of amusement on her face as he drew his daggers. He came at her men like a whirlwind, taking some of them with steel, and some with magic. They were starting to annoy her anyway. He then turned to her. If he used his daggers, she could defend herself. If he used magic.... he would be hers. He thrust his hand towards her... and sank to the ground, in obvious agony. He screamed as he sunk to his knees. She knelt besides him, and lightly ran her Agiel against his side. He began to bleed. She pressed a little harder, and broke a few ribs, making his screams even louder than before. And she knew, from experience, that screaming with broken ribs only made them hurt more.

By now, he was on his side, in a fetal position. She went to his other side, and kicked him over, so that he was rolled onto his stomach. Of course, she thought, kicking him with broken ribs was fun. He sucked in a breath, and grunted in pain. She then grabbed him by his dark hair, yanking his head violently up. "My name is Morrigan. Mistress Morrigan, to you, my pet." she sneered. He glared up at her through his tears. He didn't say anything to her, like they normally do, just glared up at her with those gray eyes of his. Yes, he was hers. But there was still defiance in his steel eyes....