The servant returned with a simple blue dress, that had no adornments. It was thick, with long sleeves, so that the wearer would be warm. He nodded in approval, and without warning, picked up Samira with no effort on his part. He only saw her bare back, but the maids gasped. They had never seen such boldness of any man. The women would have struggled to dress dead weight, but it would have been expected. "Dress her and stop gawking." He growled. She was getting cold, and her hair was wet from being washed. He didn't want her to be at even more risk of being sick. She had already almost died outside.
"Of course, Master." They stuttered in unison. He sighed, allowing them to dry her off, and they slipped the dress over her head. They had difficulty with getting her arms in with the shackles on her wrists, but thankfully the material had give to it. Samira was also shorter, and smaller than his cousin, but he didn't care about that. The thick, shiny cuffs on her wrists had his attention. They bothered him. That she belonged to someone, probably another man before him irked him, but it was something that would have to be looked into later.
For now, the maids needed him, as Samira was dead weight. They watched how easily he could lift her as if she weighed nothing. He then held her as if she were his bride, and put her in his own enormous bed, covering her with his thick wolf fur blanket. They dared not protest, and went to scamper out the room, but he clicked his tongue. They froze in their tracks, thinking that they had done something wrong.
"You will tell no one of this." He said sternly. They nodded, seeing the rage in his eyes. They couldn't understand what he was angry for, or who, but while they had their heads, they would leave. With them gone, and Samira in his bed, he decided it was best to sit at the table in his room and focus on the tasks that he had ignored these past few days. He knew if he got in bed with her, she might get the wrong idea even though ultimately, he didn't care about that. What he cared about was treating her well.
It bothered him that she was covered head to toe in one bruise or another, and it really showed because she was fairly pale. He was glad he was at his desk, because at the moment, he had no other desire than to caress her, and to see her when her eyes fluttered open. He wanted to hold her, and have her hands wrapped around his neck while she sat in his lap and called him his first name. Hell, any name. As long as he heard her voice again. She looked so weak...
Time went slowly for the Lord that night. It wasn't until the sun came up that he realized he went to sleep with his door open in his chair. He had hot tea and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He grumbled groggily, not necessarily grateful for the prying of his servants. He contemplated punishing them, but he knew they ultimately meant well. The tea had been sitting on his desk long enough that it was drinkable, and someone had freshly tossed logs on his fire.
He walked to Samira, who showed no signs of stirring, and reluctantly bathed and left her company. His personal servants and some of the guards knew of what happened, but since they were commanded to be silent, no one shared with anyone who didn't know for themselves. He walked down to his war room a little more refreshed than he had been in a while, even though he slept in a chair. Usually, the Lord would be cranky, but could go a few solid days without sleep. However, last night was the first time in a long time that he had rest.
Maybe it was the woman? He would investigate this further later. In the meantime, he needed to be briefed. He sat in the war room, and listened to the results of his eastern border clean up. It was a success, which did not surprise him. He commended them for their efforts, and gave a bonus to the living, and burial rights to the dead. They also told him of a possible shortage of grain because of a storehouse collapsing in the night in the town nearby. This was a real concern. Low stocks of food in winter would weaken his troops and cause rebellion among the peasants.
"Retrieve as much as you can, and barter the rest from the south. Their lands never frost, so they lie if they say they don't have enough." He said flatly, and leaned back in his throne.
"Yes, Lord Thetas… also …" The General hesitated, unable to figure out a way to mention what he wanted. He knew no matter how he worded it, he would probably irk Lord Thetas.
"Speak." He commanded, already irritated, already knowing the subject the general was avoiding.
"…The soldiers need 50 more slaves to rebuild Camp Gray Fell in about 4 weeks, My Lord." He said, taking a moment to sit further in his chair. To everyone's surprise, Lord Thetas was very calm about this, as if it were another small task to decide upon.
"Buy 60, and be done in three weeks." He said flatly. Other slaves didn't matter to him, only one. Only Samira. She was the one who he wished to be with right now, however, she was still sleeping. There was nothing that could be done about it, as waking her could hurt her. She had been worked to exhaustion, as well as starved, beaten, and almost frozen to death. She would not wake for a while, and he understood this. He was simply getting impatient.
While Lord Thetas was out, running the manor, his cousin was feeling nosy. Of all the years that she had lived in the house with him, he had never asked for a dress. He had women over, but they were gone as fast as they came. Many women came to be potential wives, but they all left sooner or later. She asked the servants, she even had some whipped, but none would talk. They wouldn't talk, even when she threatened them with the Cells.
She didn't even know what her cousin did, but she knew it was something she didn't want to hear. When she was little she almost went into the entrance, but ran away when she heard the growling and anguish. The tight-lipped servants must have been threatened by her cousin himself for them to be so loyal. So she decided to take a look for herself. For the first time ever, she decided she would go to her cousin's personal chambers.
"My Lady, you cannot go up! The Lord will be furious." Said the guard, watching the stairs that led up. The burly man had another with him, and both of them side by side blocked her completely. She was never one to give up so easily. The plucky 17-year-old had an idea that just might work.
"What are you talking about? Didn't he tell you already? I'm here to pick up my dress idiots!" She lied very dramatically.
They looked at each other. They were now in an impossible situation. To go against their Lord was death, to go against the Lady was also going against their Lord, which also meant death. But why would she go out of her way to do something a maid would do? It was best not to question her, but also to go with the first order.
The one on the left spoke up. "My Lady, until he sends word, we cannot let you up. These are his words, by penalty of punishment by him to any who break it." He emphasized the 'any'. She knew he wasn't lying, but what was he hiding? She screamed in frustration and stomped out the entryway.
She looked for her cousin, who was in his study. It was 3 after all, he was usually there or the war room until dinner. Then it was a toss-up between if he retired early, or went to the Cells. He would spend the entire night there, and return in his chambers not to be disturbed. The thought made her hesitate. She also thought about what the guard said about going into his chambers, and she almost did. Would he have become angry with her? Would he have her married to some old, ugly, selfish man to be rid of her?
"Cousin come in, why do you look so fearful?" Said Lord Thetas with no emotion in his voice. He knew from a servant what she had tried to do, and wasn't angry about it. She was a young girl being curious, but he did not like that she tried to trick her way around his law. She became more fearful and was about to leave, but he was bored, and chose to tease her a bit, just enough to teach her a lesson.