*** This is progressing a little slower now I'm back at work full time (p.s. I work in Westminster politics in the UK so do expect some fun with that!)
Thank you all for your comments, and do keep them coming – I really appreciate them.
For those that have asked, the pronunciation is An-eer-ah – an old Welsh name, now pretty uncommon.
And for any that are concerned, don't worry, she's got fight in her yet! ***
He woke early, working while he fed her breakfast on his lap. He sent her off to be bathed again, this time with two guards, both Rogers and Davies, flanking the diminutive May. By the time she was returned he was dressed and sipping coffee, his jacket unbuttoned and hanging open.
He had had her dressed in the dark green of his house, with a delicate pierced silver belt at her waist, pulling the material tight before it flowed down to her ankles, stopping just short of a pair of high-heeled silver sandals. The silver cuffs at her wrists and high choker were jewellery to the casual view, but at closer inspection, the clasps were too strong and had locks. He dismissed the others and left her standing as he finished his coffee, but gave a yelp as he spilt some down his shirt and jacket.
"Bugger it to hell." He left the room. Remembering the conversation of the previous evening, sensing what might be her only chance, Aneira found new courage, and made the two paces to the desk and tried the top drawer. It wasn't even locked. The arrogant bastard thought her quite tame, she'd show him, though she wasn't quite sure yet how. The little drive was sitting snugly next to the laptop; she palmed it quickly, closed the drawer and returned, subtly tucking the thing between her belt and dress, hiding it in folds of silk, taking deep breaths to calm her racing heart. He returned in his change of clothes, picking up hat and gloves and belting on his sword.
"Come, girl, we are going to pay a visit to your boyfriend before we leave."
He was in a cell, asleep, but the general barked at him to wake up, apparently in an utterly foul mood.
"Snivelling waste of a man, up, now" he was just about to open the cell door no doubt to kick the man into action but his phone rang. He cursed as he looked down. "Stay here, I won't be a moment. If you do anything other than stay I'll beat your arse purple."
She couldn't believe her luck. He had left her alone in the hall, no Rogers, no Davies, nobody. She could hardly escape anywhere but she could still manage some mischief for him.
"Telor, Telor come here quick." she hissed, praying that he couldn't hear.
"Princess, are you alright? He made you..."
"Shhh, no time. Take this." He looked quizzically. "It is an encrypted drive, his top secret files. People are coming to break you out, and they will be here in a few days. I don't hold out much hope that they will succeed, but if they do, give them this."
She passed the drive through the bars and was glad to see that by the time she had straightened up he had squirreled it away out of sight.
The door clunked and he was back. "Am I disturbing anything, you two lovers?" He stood behind her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close to his chest, one hand on her breast, the other gliding down. "But of course there is nothing to disturb is there. There was never anything between you but promises and poetry. It is nothing on the fun we have, is it girl?"
"No lord." She looked down at her feet as she said it, ashamed at her cowardice.
"Good, now follow, I have a trial to attend."
He swept away. They were joined in the hall by Rogers, Davies and three others, all followed them out. Rogers joined them in their car as usual, the other four in the one behind.
"Lord, may I ask you something?"
"Yes, since you asked so nicely, you may."
"What is this trial, who is being tried?"
The cruel grin was back.
"Your father, pet."
She gaped at him. "But he got away! His guard got him out! They were coming back for us and there was word he was safe. That can't be! He is safe!"
"No, simple creature, he was found. Nobody was coming for you but me. He goes on trial today."
"But why? Why he never did anything to anybody? What are the charges?" He glared at her. "My lord", she added, realising that she had probably gone far too far.
"He resisted. We have to make an example of him. And I don't remember the charges, Rogers what did we put down in the end?"
"Raising arms against The Empire and aiding terrorists I think sir."
"That was it. We decided to keep things simple."
He kicked her slightly. "Your mouth is open. Close it unless you want me to fill it." She closed her mouth quickly and looked down at the floor.
"Climb up here girl, up, sit on my lap." She complied silently, still numb from the news. He held her on his lap and rested one hand on her thigh while the other played with her breasts through the light fabric.
When they stopped and stepped out of the car they were quickly surrounded by his security detail: two in front, one behind, and one either side, easily clearing a path through the crowd. She wondered what trouble he was expecting. They ascended a broad flight of steps into a civic building of some sort. This must be the court. Cameras flashed on all sides but they paid the no notice and swept on inside. He left three men in the atrium and one outside the door of the courtroom, leaving just Rogers. He smartened his uniform, and marched inside, keeping her behind him.
"Ah, general, we were just about to send for you. No matter, would you take the witness stand and state your full name for the record?" An elderly man presided over a packed courtroom. She could see the dock on the far side but nothing of who was in it.
He stood in the witness box and sat her quietly beside him, out of sight, Rogers blocking her entirely from the view of the room.
"General Charles Henry Berkeley, Lord of The Marches, First Commander of His Imperial Majesty's Armed Forces"
He had a title to match his ego, she thought, rebelliously.
She lost track of what was being said after that, there was so much "kindly turn to tab b of section iv, paragraph four" that she had no idea what was actually going on. After some time she began to follow that they were loosely following the course of the war, but he was detailing a number of atrocities she was sure had never happened and others that were the fault of his troops not theirs.
"Does the defendant have any response?" asked the judge.
"That man murdered my people, my family, my sons and my young daughter. I will not justify his lies with a response." It was her father's voice but creaking and weary.
"Your honour I reject such slander. Indeed, I personally rescued his daughter from the ruins of the citadel."
"Have you any evidence of this claim?" The judge seemed perturbed slightly – this was a strictly choreographed show trial and that was not in the plans, but he was sure the young lord knew what he was doing.
"Of course I do your honour. I brought the poor frightened creature into my own household. Stand up Aneira." Rogers stood her up. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her head to his chest. "I'm afraid she is rather traumatised, your honour. Her guards shot the women in the hope that we wouldn't find them, but by the grace of God they missed her. We found her amongst the bodies. I'm afraid she may have been there some hours."
The crowd gasped and jeered. They must truly be savages as their lords had claimed to attempt to kill such a beautiful young girl.
"Your honour I sought to remove her from such suffering but it has followed her. Two nights ago, armed rebels broke into the estate. They stole her from her bed. My men apprehended them and brought her back to me just in time. They confessed that they were acting on orders from their king given in secret before his capture. I'm afraid they tried to rape her."
"No worse than she gets at your hands nightly you bastard. Take your hands off of my daughter." The old king snarled, not bothering to conceal his hatred.
The crowd was in uproar. He used the cover to whisper in her ear: "play along or I'll feed Telor his own tongue. He has outlived his usefulness and what I do with him depends entirely on you."
She sobbed into his chest. There was no need to act, she just stopped holding them in. Cameras flashed wildly.
After a lot of shouting and use of his gable, the judge managed to quell the uproar.
"Idwal, King of Brin-Gwirth, I have no choice but to sentence you to death, at dusk tomorrow."
"Aneira, look at me, save yourself. Somebody get that abomination away from my daughter." She looked, but she wished she hadn't. He had aged decades in a week. His shoulders sagged and his skin was grey. New tears rolled down her cheek and she felt them wiped away by silk handkerchief. The old king was dragged away, still shouting for someone to save his daughter.
"If you faint now I'll free your boyfriend. I'll leave him all of his fingers and everything." He growled in her ear. She went limp and dropped to the ground, allowing herself to be caught in his strong arms and lifted to his chest. If Telor was set free he could get the disk drive to the rebels, she couldn't have hoped for a better offer.
The crowd were quite overcome with sympathy for the delicate girl and many noted how lordly he looked as he cradled her to his chest and called for his men to clear a path and to get help. He swept through the parted crowds and allowed his men to fall into step behind him, leaving a clear shot for the cameramen as he left the building. He set her down in the car and climbed in behind, speeding away from the scene.
