I saw you struggling fervently between the two muscled Celtic warriors. You looked at me, a little blond haired woman with acceptance, or was it the large silver dagger that you knew would kill you.
You looked to be a fine warrior and I blushed like a young girl when you looked at me not showing fear but interest.
You were placed on the alter in front of me and you asked, in my own tongue, for me not to sacrifice you. I was for the first time, moved by a sacrifices pleas. You looked at me as if you saw right through my guise of non chalance.
The dagger rose high into the sky in my hands which shook as my tribe chanted. You lay there, tears pricked me eyes and I aimed for your heart. But then somehow your bound hands were free and you grabbed me and the dagger and held it to my throat.
The crowd gasped. The warriors came forward. I was vital to our community, they wouldn’t let you kill me. But now somehow I am yours and I nuzzle deeper into your arms as we ride away.
Word Count: 176 words
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