River wakes before the crack of dawn - her body seemingly unable to capture a full night's rest as she had tossed and turned on the hardened divan. She lays on her back, staring at the wall, hyper aware of the cold morning air that filters through partially opened windows, skimming over her sweat drenched skin.

Goosebumps rise. She sighs and rubs her eyes while slowly pushing herself into an upright position. Automatically, her eyes slant towards the large figure that remains still beneath a thin silk sheet. Hadrius is motionless, save for the slight rise and fall of his chest. He lies on his back, one arm cast over his eyes, the other resting over his bandaged torso.

She studies his form, realizing then just how large the man is -- it seems the queen sized bed is not sufficient for his bare foot peeks just about the edge. She traces the curve of tribal markings along the sole of his foot, wrapping around each toe, and wonders why he seems so intent on covering every inch of his skin with it.

River stifles a yawn then rises, each footfall growing silent as she enters his washroom and proceeds to wash her face from the small bowl of water. Combing a wet hand through her unruly curls, River tugs at the ends, suddenly wondering if she could cut her hair.

Maintaining long hair as a slave proved itself to be tedious and rather expensive - long hair was considered a luxury as only the well off could purchase the oils and soaps required to keep it ridiculously healthy and glowing. It had been an easier task for her to maintain the length whilst serving her mistress for she was female and once in a while, River would 'borrow' the woman's items.

However, this situation was entirely different. She was a beast's slave. One who held humans to the utmost contempt and stared at them as though they were nothing short of steaming piles of dog shit.

Her dark curls had matted along the singed edges, and she had no brush. River bites the flesh of her inner cheek in contemplation. Yes, she could cut her hair but permission was needed from the owner.

To alter one's body, as a slave, was forbidden lest the owner knew and approved of it. They had, after all, purchased the slave. She was his to use and dispose as seen fit. River sighs in soft deflation before stepping away from the mirror and tying her hair up into a ponytail.

As nimble as a cat, she exits the bedroom then building altogether.

Outside the weather is cool, grey clouds lumbering across the sky, the sound of bleating sheep and crowing hens drifts by as she finds the path that leads up to the great hall. Scarce men are awake at such an hour, leaning on their posts with half shut eyes, yawning while striding about or simply sitting around the dead bonfire, swaying back and forth in their partial drunken states.

Far too engrossed in observing the men, River does not take notice of the man that walks down the same path as her, and when she does it is too late--

She slams into his front then staggers back upon impact, fall halted as a large hand shoots out and roughly grabs her bicep.

"Well isn't this a pleasant surprise-" her eyes widen at the sight of Odin, the grip on her bicep tightens to that of vicious, his dirt and blood stained nails digging into the soft flesh of her inner forearm. "Where are you going, slave?"

River's mouth grows bone dry. Her lips part to speak but nothing leaves, tongue desperately clinging to the roof of her mouth. His eyes glint with something dark and wicked, the effect causing her heart to tumble in her chest as they scour her face greedily.

"Breakfast." She manages, struggling to maintain the placid mask of servility and give nothing of fear away.

"Breakfast," he mutters, slowly pulling her closer. The space inadvertently shifts to a close and River digs her heels into the stone path. "For Hadrius?"

Something acerbic floods her mouth, mutely she nods then smothers the diminutive of quivers that disturbs her tone; "He expects it right now." It was a subtle pointed statement of warning that Hadrius would make his presence known should she continue to idle about. Though in truth, her master was deep asleep and oblivious to her predicament.

Fortunately, Odin bites the bait. The grip on her hand loosens and just as she begins to pull away, he yanks her towards him so fast her chest slams against his torso. Before she can pull away, his large calloused palm grabs at her boob and squeezes with sadistic indulgence. A flash of rage surges through the slave girl, abruptly swathed by humiliation that wraps fingers of heat over her neck and face.

Passing slaves witness the assault but say nothing, simply lowering their faces in deference and fear.

"After you serve your master," he says while examining her with minute care, the flicker of monstrous and terrible delight, "bring breakfast to my tent as well, for my slave is currently bedridden."

Her silence causes him to pinch her nipple. When she speaks there is a strained touch of pain in her voice as hectic spots of red burn on her cheeks, "As you wish, sir."

By the time River returns back to the tent, Hadrius is awake and standing over his table in nothing but a pair of trousers that hang low on his hips. River hesitates at the sight of him, "Good morning," she tests lightly. Hadrius makes no move to acknowledge her presence, simply gesturing her towards the small table set before the divan and couch.

Wordlessly, she obeys and sets the tray down before standing beside it, fumbling with her hands. Despite it only being morning, perspiration beaded across her forehead and upper lip. She is angry, and fearful, a terrible mixture of both that causes saliva to pile between her cheeks. The urge to puke overwhelms her senses and for a moment, River truly believes she would, that is until Hadrius suddenly straightens from reading the map sprawled across his table.

His eyes are lit with an exquisite fire as they meet hers. Had it not been for the slight loose ponytail of his bedridden hair, she would have assumed him to have just ridden in from battle. Something energetic and deadly tucked into the build of a man.

He watches her in that fraction of time that passes like an eon.

River struggles not to shift, unnerved, from beneath his scrutiny. Her breast still aches dully from the rough manhandling and it only sparks the flint of anger within. Would she really serve Odin?

No, the man was mad.

But would it be punishable by law if she refused to serve a superior?

But she wasn't his slave.

"Sit," Hadrius' deep sonorous and resonant voice startles her back to reality, and she watches him dumbly as he sits on the divan, leg crossed over the other, book in hand. Wordlessly, his pale fine-pointed fingers reach for a hot pastry and lifts it to the petalled mouth. She watches him eat for a second longer, before moving to perch herself on the edge of a seat.

Sensing her tensed demeanor, Hadrius' dull eyes flicker towards the slave; "Are you not hungry?" He demands, "do humans not feel hunger in the morning?"

The bluntness and slight ignorance of his question floors her. For a moment, she believes he is simply mocking her until she realizes he is not. Genuine curiosity over a creature, human, he could not understand and was trying to.

She licked her chapped lips, "I am." In turn, her stomach makes a low rumbling noise which she fails at masking with a short clearing of her throat. Hadrius' eyes linger on her belly then with deliberate slowness, rise to her face.

He arcs a cynical black eyebrow when she makes no move to eat, "Must I feed you from my hand, human?"

A faint blush, like the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver, comes to her cheeks. "No," she mutters, horribly embarrassed by his suggestion. Wordlessly, she reaches for the first item on the tray in order to silence any more derogatory statements. A sticky bun. River takes a bite of the pastry then peers at him from beneath her lashes. His attention had drifted back to the book.

Confident that he is no longer watching her, River chews the pastry and swallows. Though it is sweet and filling, nerves fill her belly. Odin.

She considers bringing up the topic of Odin to Hadrius but something holds her back. She stuffs her mouth with the pastry and carefully sucks the nectar from her finger before reaching for another, pausing to see if he would chastise her actions, then filling her mouth again and again until her belly was satiated when he does not.

The book suddenly shuts and he rises, "I will be gone for the day, do not wait up for me." Hadrius explains with his back turned towards her.

Where? She wishes to ask but feels as though prying would only irritate him further. River nods, words burning at the tip of her tongue. Odin Odin Odin Odin.

Hadrius changes swiftly and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

She leaps to her feet almost immediately and begins scouring the room, searching every nook and cranny for the item. Pulling open random drawers, she pushes aside pieces of clothing and whatnot until her fingers curl around something cold.

Her heart leaps in victory only to stutter as a soft knock echoes from the opposite side of the door.

"River," Anita's low, trembling voice whispers out to her, "Odin has requested your presence."