Faryn took a deep breath in and let out through her nose, calming herself. His nonchalant words were that of barbarism, something the elves didn’t participate in. They thought that bettering their opponent in a fair fight and with fair punishment was better than torture of any kind. One didn’t go looking for a reason to hurt another person, at least that wasn’t what was generally accepted among her people. Every race at the corrupt soul but never so openly as Cromir. Faryn looked at the pile she held, rubbing the material between her thumbs. “Do you mark all your women like this?” She wondered if she would run into other women he abused with similar marks upon their bodies. She would be naïve to think she was his one and only. A man like Cromir never had just one of anything.<br/><br/>Faryn gritted her teeth, biting back the chance to snap at him while his back was turned. It would solve nothing and probably make her stay even worse. Earn it, how did one earn better clothes when they weren’t allow to do anything but grovel and fuck. She couldn’t show her skills or even her personality to him, she didn’t want to. Knowledge was power and as long as she had the upper hand in their silent war she felt secure. Faryn watched him finish getting dressed, eyebrows lifting at the poorly maintained helmet. She knew several ways to make it better, to fix the beaten piece of armor.<br/><br/>Faryn glanced at the Trusted as she was address, the poor girl looked ready to shit herself before the armored giant. She wanted to comfort her but made no attempt, knowing it was useless. She was broken. When the man left Faryn got up and let the dress fall, holding it against herself as he yelled back the warning. The princess looked around the cave for something to wash herself in. She could smell Cromir all over herself and knew her genitals probably weren’t in better shape. “Where can I bathe?” She asked, looking at the timid little thing that stood off to the side.<br/><br/>“I can bring in a wash bucket.” The Trusted offered, hurrying from the cave before Faryn could say another word. Eager little creature. Faryn looked around the cave, going over to the carvings one of his generals had made the night prior. She picked up the carving of her, dress slung in the crook of her arm. Her thumb ran over the smooth surface of the statue’s face. It was nice to see a skill that wasn’t used for barbarism still lived in the camp. The figurine was placed back down as she heard the girl coming back in. She was slower and the water in the bucket sloshed over the sides, darkening the wood. The Trusted placed the bucket down before Faryn and stepped back, lowering her gaze to the floor. Faryn looked into the bucket at the water that began to settle. The dress was draped over the back of a chair and she knelt down, cupping the cold water in her hands and washing her face. She rubbed the water over her armpits and genitals, cleaning herself the best she could. Her blonde hair was tied back into a braid and she stood, grabbing the dress. With a sigh of defeat she finally put it on. It barely covered anything, accenting her hips and the roundness of her breasts while accommodating a plunging neckline that showed more cleavage than she would have ever wanted exposed. The entire back was open, revealing her flawless skin, save for the bandaged shoulder. The princess slipped on her old shoes, sandals that wound up her calves. Faryn permitted the Trusted to help dress her wound, cleaning it out and placing a new bandage over top to prevent infection.<br/><br/>Now clean and with fresh bandages Faryn left the cave with the Trusted following behind her. She blinked as she entered the dome of sunlight from the entrance of the cave. Her eyes squinted and it took several seconds for them to adjust to the bright light. She looked out at the camp, with a perfect posture and a stern face, proud despite what everyone knew happened to her last night. It was other with, there was no sense reliving it. She looked around for Cromir, the echo of his warning about his men still lingering. It was one thing being used by the man who held the safety of her people in his large grasp, another to be handed around a camp like some whore.