The carriage rumbled softly along the uneven path. Marek sat beside Inara, his broad frame making the space feel smaller. His gray eyes flicked toward her now and then, noting her clasped hands, stiff posture, and silent gaze fixed out the window.

He considered saying something, anything, to reassure her, but he held back. Her fear was palpable, and the last thing he wanted was to add to it. Instead, he watched the scenery pass by in silence, his presence a steady, unobtrusive shadow.

The creak of the gates ahead caught Inara's attention. Her eyes widened as the massive wooden gates opened, revealing the village inside. Her gaze darted around, taking in the bustling activity.

Men and women alike moved about, carrying baskets of goods or tending to small market stalls. Children played in the streets, their laughter ringing out as they chased each other or played with animals. Women walked freely, their heads held high, not shackled by fear or control. Inara's heart clenched at the sight—this was a world she had never known, a world where women weren't treated like slaves.

The carriage moved through the village, passing clusters of small houses that looked cozy and well-maintained. The people waved to the driver, some sparing curious glances at the carriage's occupants, though Marek's presence seemed to discourage any lingering stares.

After some time, the carriage veered off the main path and toward a quieter area, where the homes were sparse and larger. Inara glanced at Marek, her curiosity tempered by caution. When the carriage stopped, he stepped out first, turning to offer her his hand.

She hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand, before placing her trembling one in his. His touch was firm but gentle as he helped her down.

"This is my home," he said, his voice calm but with an edge of warmth that seemed uncharacteristic. "You'll be safe here."

She nodded, her gaze settling on the small, peaceful hut. Inside, the space was simple yet welcoming—soft sofas, a modest kitchen, and a neatly made bed visible through an open door. It wasn't grand like the village homes or the brothel she had been forced to endure.

"Make yourself comfortable," Marek said, but before she could respond, a knock at the door drew his attention.

Marek frowned slightly, then turned to her. "Stay here. I'll see who it is."

He opened the door, revealing a man dressed in royal attire. The man bowed slightly before speaking in hushed tones.

"The King has requested your presence at the castle." 

Marek's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Tell him I'll be there shortly."

Inara watched him, her guarded expression betraying a hint of surprise at his kindness. She nodded silently.

Marek lingered for a moment, as if debating whether to say more, but finally gave her a small, reassuring smile before stepping out. The door clicked shut behind him, leaving Inara alone.

She stood there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Her gaze swept over the room, noting its simplicity and the sense of safety it exuded. Slowly, she moved to the sofa and sat down, her hands clutching her knees.

For the first time in years, she wasn't bound, wasn't being watched, and wasn't in danger. But the unfamiliarity of freedom was almost as terrifying as captivity.

Marek walked into the castle courtyard, his boots crunching against the gravel path. A guard approached, bowing slightly.

"The King is in the garden, my lord," the guard informed him.

Marek nodded his thanks and headed toward the lush gardens. As he approached, the sound of laughter floated through the air, drawing a faint smile to his lips.

There, on the soft grass, Zythan was playing with his two children. The mighty king of Southern, once a fearsome and unyielding warrior, now knelt with his young son and daughter, his expression filled with nothing but joy. Marek chuckled softly, shaking his head. His brother, once known for his cold demeanor, had transformed entirely in the presence of his family.

Zythan spotted him and stood, brushing off his tunic. "Marek!" he called out, waving him over.

Marek approached, clasping his brother's arm in greeting. They exchanged a few words before Zythan motioned for him to walk. Together, they strolled through the garden, leaving the children to their play.

"I heard about the brothel," Zythan began, his tone serious now. "You did well, Marek."

Marek nodded. "The families of the girls who had one came to pick them up. Those who didn't are free to choose their own path, and the minors are being cared for in the village orphanage. They'll have food, shelter, and safety until they're old enough to decide their future."

Zythan clasped his shoulder. "You've done a good thing. But..." He paused, his brow furrowing. "The guards informed me you brought a woman back with you."

Marek stopped walking, turning to face his brother. "They did?"

"Is this who I think it is?" Zythan asked a note of accusation in his voice. "Marek, you know the laws here. Bringing random women home—especially someone so visibly scared—raises questions."

Marek's eyes narrowed in disbelief. "You think I would do that?" he asked, his voice low but firm. "The woman I brought back is Inara. She's the daughter of an old warrior who went missing years ago. I knew her father—he told me about her."

Zythan's tense posture softened, and he let out a sigh of relief. "Forgive me. I should have known better. But you're aware of the village rules. An unwed woman cannot live in your home."

Marek's jaw tightened. "So what do you suggest? That I cast her out? After everything she's been through?"

Zythan looked at him, his expression torn. "It's not my decision, but the options are clear. She either moves to a separate home within the village... or you marry her."

Marek didn't respond immediately, his mind racing. The idea of marrying Inara without her consent was unthinkable, but forcing her to live elsewhere would terrify her even more.

Before either could say more, a familiar voice called out from behind them. Zythan's wife, Aelira, approached, her hands resting on her growing belly.

"Is everything all right?" she asked, her warm smile lighting up the tension between the brothers.

Zythan's expression softened immediately. "Of course," he said, moving to her side to support her. "Just a discussion about Marek's... guest."

Aelira's eyes sparkled with curiosity. "Ah, I heard about her. Marek," she said, turning to him with an encouraging smile, "you should think carefully about what's best for her. The rules are there for a reason, but no one will judge you for doing what's right by her."

Her gentle words lingered in Marek's mind as they spent some time in the garden. He played briefly with his niece and nephew, their laughter a brief reprieve from the weight of the decision hanging over him.

"Alright, I should get to Inara. I'll see you two later," Marek stated, as he stood up and decided to leave. 

Stepping inside, he paused at the sight before him. Inara was sitting on the floor, her gaze fixed on the fish swimming lazily in the small bowl on the table. The soft glow of the setting sun illuminated her face, highlighting her delicate features and the innocence that clung to her despite everything she had endured.

Marek leaned against the doorway for a moment, watching her with quiet amusement. She seemed lost in the simple beauty of the fish, a faint look of wonder on her face.

Clearing his throat, he stepped inside. "They are nice aren't they?" he asked gently.

Inara turned to him, her blue eyes meeting his. For the first time since they had met, she spoke.

"Yes," she said, her voice just above a whisper. "They are nice."

He contemplated whether she was going to eat food or not because it looked like, all she had done was use his bathroom and nothing else. 

Marek entered his kitchen as Inara stared at his broad back, his muscles prominent as he walked. She quickly looked away, no she couldn't do this, she wouldn't do this, ever. 

Marek returned with a plate of food, the faint clatter of dishes breaking the silence. Inara, seated on the floor near the sofa, flinched at the sound. She instinctively pressed herself against the armrest, her eyes darting toward him, wary and tense.

"I brought you something to eat," he said, his voice low and steady as he crouched to her level. He held the plate out, keeping his movements deliberate and slow, as though handling something fragile.

Her gaze flicked to the plate, then to him, her body frozen in hesitation. The faint tremble of her hands betrayed her fear. She was used to food being a means of control, a tool of power wielded by those who sought to break her. Accepting it meant submission.

Marek noticed the way she stiffened, the mistrust clouding her blue eyes. "You don't have to take it if you don't want to," he said softly. "But it's here for you, and no one will take it from you."

Her eyes searched his face, looking for deceit or hidden motives. Finding none, she hesitantly reached out, her fingers brushing against the edge of the plate as though testing its reality.

"Take your time," Marek said, setting the plate gently on the table beside her and retreating a step. He leaned back against the opposite armrest, giving her space while staying within sight.

Inara finally picked up the plate, her hands trembling as she held it close. She took a small bite, pausing after the first taste as though expecting a punishment to follow. When nothing happened, she risked another, the tension in her shoulders easing only slightly.

"I won't hurt you," Marek said after a moment, his voice quiet but firm. "No one will hurt you here. You can eat when you're hungry, sleep when you're tired, and go wherever you want. You're free."

Her head snapped up at the word, her brows knitting together as if the concept itself was foreign, almost incomprehensible. "Free?" she repeated, the word fragile on her lips.

"Yes," he affirmed, his gray eyes unwavering. "This is your home now. No one will harm you. Not while I'm here."

A flicker of emotion crossed her face—hope, fear, and disbelief all tangled together. She looked down at the plate again, her appetite returning cautiously.

Marek didn't press her further. Instead, he simply stayed, his steady presence a quiet reassurance that his words were not empty. For now, he knew rebuilding her trust would take time. But he would give her all the time she needed. 

A/N

Long part!

I'm not getting enough votes on this but I'm still going to write. It's sad tho tbh.

What do you think so far? How is Marek?

Btw, the next chapter will have some timeskip, dw it's not in years or anything. But it will show Inara's character development through out the time she's with Marek.

Anyway, see ya on ember of enmity soon!

xoxo

-lily