Once they calm Nehalennia’s fantasies down, the four sit in a circle away from where everybody is sleeping and start asking questions.
Fenrir, in particular, has much to ask her about.
The first concern that comes to his mind is how she’s in this position in the first place. “Do you have traumatic content enabled? Wouldn’t being basically enslaved count as traumatic?” he asks.
Tabitha answers for Nehalennia, “Ya can’t force people to be your slave. If she’s enslaved, it means she’s consentin’ to it.”
Nehalennia nods her head. “Technically, I am. It is either be his thing, die and lose everything, or create a new character which is essentially the same. I do not mean to sound narcissistic, but fortunately, I am very valuable. I am able to get away with refusing far more than the other girls can. Most of them do not even play anymore. The only way that he would ever kill me is – actually, I am not sure what it would take. As many times as I try to escape and am recaptured, he never so much as even hits me,” she explains.
“What do you mean about the other girls?” Fenrir asks.
“They have either stopped playing, allowing the overseer to take over their characters, or they have created new characters.”
“What happens when you create a new character? I thought you could only have one?” Fenrir mentally asks Saya.
“You can make a new character whenever you want, Onii-chan, but you’ll never be able to play your last character again. Your character stays in the world but gets taken over by the overseer,” Saya explains to him.
“So, then I guess slaves aren’t really left without any options. He doesn’t try forcing you to do anything?” Fenrir asks for confirmation.
“No, my hero. I know what you are thinking, but that is not the case. Truthfully, he does not force such things upon any of us. He has only laid with those whom have consented to it and has only ever raised a hand to the ones since taken over by the overseer. We are kept well fed, given individual beds, given clean and expensive clothes, and our only task is more or less to be put on display for him. A few of the girls have even fallen in love with him and have met with him in reality,” Nehalennia explains.
“What about the collars?”
“Simple decorations.”
“That dragon girl had her wings bound by it. Looked like it was to keep her from flying rather than just be decoration.”
“A-ah, well, you see, she is a special exception. She – I feel like it would be rude to give you this information without her consent, but she is one of his girlfriends. She is also,” Nehalennia looks away, blushing, “into that.”
Tabitha speaks up, “So, she’s one of them girlies into bein’ tied up and treated like a slave?”
Nehalennia gives a shy nod as a response.
“Ya know, maybe that elf-deer-thing ain’t half bad, captain. A man who takes care of his girl’s needs isn’t exactly a bad one,” Tabitha says, looking over at Fenrir. “Oi, why do you look so disappointed?”
“Because he’s not really some evil asshole like I thought he was. I guess it makes sense seeing as how the game doesn’t really allow that sort of stuff to happen to players without them consenting to it. Honestly, between how he seemed when I first saw him up close and hearing all of this, he kind of sounds likable,” Fenrir explains.
“Oh! He donates to charities as well. He is a popular streamer and donates all of the money he gets through streaming to shelters for exotic animals. I know how he looks, but he does it for show – roleplaying, as they say,” Nehalennia says.
Even Tabitha and Corwin look disappointed at this point.
“Does he do anything evil?” Fenrir asks.
Nehalennia looks away again. “Yes, he does. I know I am telling you the positives, but he can still be a cruel man. As I said, most of the other girls no longer play. No matter how much they begged for freedom, they were not granted it. He is very possessive and narcissistic as well, and a very prideful man. He sees me as his property, but believes that as long as he takes care of all my needs, that there is no issue in treating me as his lesser,” she says.
Fenrir lets out a sigh of relief. “Good, I can still dislike him for something. I – I mean, not good that you’re treated that way, but—”
“I know, my hero. Thank you for your concern, but you need not explain yourself.”
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“So, why dontcha just make a new character?” Tabitha asks.
“Would you if you were given a blessing that none others had and would lose upon doing so?” Nehalennia asks her.
“Of course I would! I couldn’t stand bein’ treated like some prick’s thing. As long as I can get my hands on some new toys to play with, I’m happy.”
Nehalennia smiles, but it has hints of sadness to it or perhaps jealousy. “I wish I could be more like you,” she says.
Those words actually make Tabitha blush which is something that neither Fenrir nor Corwin have seen thus far.
“Alas, I am not willing to surrender the blessing that I have been granted. As long as I do not have all of my freedoms stripped away from me, I am content even if it means being treated like a trophy,” Nehalennia explains. “This body is truly miraculous for me. I may still try to escape every so often, such as I am now, but I am always accepting of being recaptured. Should I be recaptured even now, I would not mind it.”
Something about the way she speaks of her body being miraculous raises suspicions within Fenrir’s mind. It just sounds… relatable – familiar. He can picture himself saying that same thing about his body. But at the same time, hearing how easily she’s willing to surrender pisses him off. “That’s bullshit,” he says.
“Eh?” Nehalennia looks up at him with wide eyes.
“I said it’s bullshit. You should get to play the game however you want without some asshole owning you like a trophy and bringing you back like a runaway dog. You should at least not just accept being taken back.”
“My hero,” Nehalennia starts talking, but her tone is more intense before – she sounds like she’s upset with him, her words sharp and hot, “do you think I have not tried? Do you think that I have not fought back and resisted time after time only to be dragged away against my will? I know that I love tragedy, but I do not love being as limited as I am even if I am treated far better than others in similar positions may be. I simply know my place and know that there is no truly escaping it. Even with you, my chances of remaining free for more than a day are lower than whatever false chances you have in your head.”
The other three look at her with surprised eyes. Such a cute and innocent girl who they weren’t taking very seriously before is capable of speaking so harshly.
Nehalennia raises a hand up to Fenrir’s cheek, gently running the back of it against him. “I am sorry, I did not mean to sound so harsh, but I do not wish for you to believe that this is a life that I enjoy and have accepted without ever trying to fight against it. It is one that I have accepted and nothing more. I am truly grateful for your help, I am, but I know how this will most likely end. Ull is a very powerful man. He will find me, and he will take me back no matter how desperately I may wish for it to not be true.”
Fenrir opens his mouth to say something but stops. He doesn’t know what to say. Corwin and Tabitha are speechless as well.
Yet, as true as her words may be, he can’t just accept this situation. He refuses to. His stubborn spirit will not allow him to accept this as something most likely out of his control.
“Sorry,” Fenrir starts, “but it’s still bullshit. I’m not going to let him take you back against your will. If you want to leave – if you genuinely want to go back to him, then that’s fine. But, unless you truly want to be with him and be nothing more than a trophy to him, I’m not going to let him take you back. I promise.”
“Fenrir, please do not make promises you will not be able to keep,” Nehalennia says.
“I don’t.”
“My hero—”
“I promise,” he reassures her, staring her directly in her eyes without a single hint of doubt or hesitation showing. He absolutely means his promise from the very bottom of his heart.
“Then I shall hold you to it, alright? Prove to me that your promises are worth believing in.” With tears in her eyes, she invokes her love for the dramatic once more, “Become the hero who mends my shattered heart.”
“You can count on it,” Fenrir says, holding her hands in his own.
Tabitha coughs.
Fenrir looks over at the disgruntled carrot top. His own dramatic side has been brought out, and he finds himself facing the judgmental stares of Tabitha and Corwin. Even Rock is sitting between them now and judging him.
He can’t remember the last time he has internally cringed this severely.
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