The Master was restless as he walked down the stairs. He had not fed in a few days, but he could go a few more. Now he needed to clear his mind. It was clouded with desire for a woman he knew he should not have. He was the Lord of the manor! He thought to himself. He could do as he pleased, but he would maintain some semblance of self-control. He knew the moment he touched her that he wouldn't be satisfied with just having her around. He would have need of her. All of her.
He shook his head, as if the thought itself would leave his mind if he but wished it. If only it were that easy. The corridors were relatively empty due to the cold, and many of the guards were on high alert at once. They weren't sleeping, that would be suicide, but they were slacking off. It had been a long time since a random inspection, and someone ran off to find the head guard Captain Eugene immediately. He was fresh out of his armor, as his shift was over, and he was actually bathing.
He raced to be decent upon hearing about the slow walk of the Master around the grounds at midnight. He put on his warmest fur cloak and formal nonarmored attire to meet with Lord, but he was already outside, and he had to run to his side. "My Lord, forgive my tardiness, I knew not of any inspections." He said with a bow. Normally, the Lord of Death didn't kill his important servants. That didn't mean he wouldn't be punished, however. That also didn't mean he was considered 'important' either.
"Ride with me." He said, ignoring the begging from his Captain. He almost liked the man, and that said something. He trusted him, as well as his brother, Archie, who led patrol of the northernmost border. They walked across the muddy path that led to his horse, while the Captain broke from Lord Thetas's side for a moment to ready his own himself. He didn't have time to find a stable hand to do this for him, as they slept inside when it got this bad out.
His eyes went wide in surprise. Not only had Metus gotten out, but he laid next to the filthy slave who smelled of strawberries always. She shivered in the cold, the wind still beat her back fiercely, but his great, and very ill-tempered warhorse was at her side. That horse had probably crushed more skulls than most trained knights in his lifetime, but here he was treating his woman with care. He stood still at the threshold of his personal stable.
'His woman?' He parroted to himself in his head. He had not even touched her, spoken no more than 5 or 6 words to her, and here he was, claiming her. She shivered violently, clinging to the straw and the horse in her sleep. Metus looked at his master, as if to plead for her life. The Master had never seen his beast behave so tenderly. He had nothing to lose by saving her life, she was clearly going to be dead by morning. He sighed. He would grant the wish of his horse, but also his heart as much as he hated to admit it to himself.
He picked her up and held her with one arm. She was so small and frail, he thought he would break her to pieces by a mere touch. Her skin, though cold as ice, was smooth and soft. The smell of sweet strawberries from a field of flowers wafted into his nose now that she was closer. She smelled as delicate as she looked. He used his other free hand to pull her hair back, to look at her face better. He stood there like this for a while, until the throat clear of the Captain behind him broke him from his stare.
"My Lord, should I take her to the Cells?" He said timidly. He immediately regretted saying that, because Lord Thetas turned around and was in his face in the blink of an eye. It was inhuman, thought the Captain. Lord Thetas was at least 2 meters from him. With a gulp, all the Captain could do was bow as low as he could. Even he didn't know what was in the Cells in the basement, and he didn't want to find out.
"No. This one is mine." He said coldly, freeing and wrapping his cloak over her. It dangled around her like a blanket, swallowing her into warm blackness. He passed by the Captain with a stride and aura of dominance, causing Captain Eugene to close his eyes. He thought it was the end for him, as the Lord of Death still had a free hand. However, he had decided to stroke her hair instead. He walked with her inside. He didn't have time to waste on servants who didn't know their place when he could hear her heart slower than it should be.
She was so cold, as if she were made of the snow itself, that was just beginning to make a thin layer outside. He almost worried would she melt when he warmed her up. With the rumors of an inspection, all the guards had been active and on high alert, which made every servant and slave in the house on edge. They stayed out the way as much as possible, huddled in their rooms and out the way, but back into their service clothing in case they were called.
All of this also woke up the only other Thetas member, Lady Beatrix, who didn't appreciate all the commotion. She figured it was best to stay in her room with her lover, a beast of a man from the black smithery in the castle. He was a strong man, with the rugged features of a gentleman who lifted iron most of his life. If he were a noble, she would have asked her cousin's permission to wed this man, for she honestly held enough love for him that she would be faithful… She was wrapped in muscular arms, but he said nothing. Mr. Smith was never one to talk, but she could read what he wanted with his dark brown eyes. They were alight with mischief and desire. They closed their door, and stayed warm while everyone else had their worries.
Lord Thetas, with Samira wrapped in his arms under his cloak, walked with purpose to his private chambers. The fireplace and hot water would warm her quickly, and she could sleep in his bed. "Prepare her a hot bath." He commanded over his shoulder walking into his room. His personal servants barely had time to comprehend what he had said before they caught his stormy eyed glare. Any who had any drowsiness were now wide awake, fumbling to get oils and the hot water ready. He sat in a chair in his grand room, holding her, though her body was still cold to the touch.
He kept cursing himself, wondering why he waited, why didn't he claim what was his the night he met her? He looked at her horrid condition, and for the first time in a long time, there was a feeling of guilt in his heart. He had never felt guilty for nearly anything in his life, but tonight he did. Her hair was dirty with muck, her nails and tips of her fingers were cracked, and she was covered in bruises from all the smacking of that accursed spoon of the head maid. His gaze was soft when he looked at her, and the servants noticed, but they dared not ask.
As Master, none would have questioned who he claimed. None would go against him. None would challenge it, yet he did all those things to himself. The Ten didn't intend his only to be a noble, or a strong woman, but rather… a small frail slave. She was his, he had made that up in his mind, but hoped he wasn't too late.
The water was ready and with one swift motion of his free hand, he ripped off the ragged dress. There was now nothing to the imagination of the Lord, but out of decency, he didn't look. He placed her into the opaque water and let female maids wash her while she was unconscious. He also called for the House Physician, an old man who wore his spectacles dangling dangerously off his nose.
The old doctor came with his bag still in his night attire. "Let me see her." He said, walking to the woman without thinking, because he saw the shackles on her wrists. He was very shocked, to say the least at such an event, but honestly, he would not ask. He picked up the now pink hands of the woman, and checked her pulse. He noticed the Lord seemed to be very agitated by the condition of a mere slave. Then it struck him… this was probably one of his lovers.
The thought made him pause. If his intentions became misinterpreted, he would probably lose his head. He cursed himself for his ignorance and grogginess. "She seems to be coming over the effects of hypothermia, my Lord, she will be fine in the morning, just keep her warm. I wouldn't be surprised if she slept for a few days." He said factually, and released his hold on her as soon as he could, immediately facing away from the woman. He looked at the Master of the manor, to see what he would say, but he only grunted.
The doctor took this as his motion to leave, as well as the other servants, except the women who had bathed her. He had ripped her tattered rags off her, it wasn't even clothing enough to call a dress anymore with all the patches it had. "My lord… she is clean but what shall we clothe the lady in?" Said one maid, looking down and stood as far away from him as possible.
He thought about this for a moment. He didn't buy, nor bring any woman's clothing into his chambers. He walked to Samira, looking down on her, and held her hand. "Tell my cousin to bring me a dress." He said, rubbing Samira's knuckles with his thumb. He was smitten by this woman, who knew not the absolute peril she was in just minutes ago. Her face was gentle as an angel's, sleeping soundly