Thread: A priaveteer recieves a gift  [Edward Thatch, Mary Elmwood]

He stood there experiencing a touch of vertigo. This was surreal and he was having a hard time believing it was happening on one hand. On the other he knew the Queen and her perverse sense of justice and this was just right up her ally. He finally remembered to breath and struggled to gather his wits. A slave. He was being given a slave. He was being made a slave owner. He began to quiver, partly with a dread of what he was being forced into and partly with a quiet rage at the queen and her machinations. Just then his head snapped up and to the queen. Excuse me, Majesty. What was that? She sneered at him. We said, We think you ought to keep her for one year for every of those unfortunate ships that so mysteriously were lost at sea. You know the slavers? Yes, We think that would be a fitting tribute from such a caring and noble Lord as yourself. He visibly gulped a breath. His voice came out as a horse rasp. Majesty, that is a long long list. If I am requested to keep her a year per ship she will die of old age before she can be freed. The Queen looked at him and smiled that wicked smile of her, Well, that would certainly be inconvenient for you, now wouldn't it? She turned and left the room. Thatch looked at Mary for a long moment and took in several things about her. She was attractive to begin with. She was clearly seething just as much as he was and she had been harmed recently. That enraged him all the more. But he considered the circumcises and where he was. He knee he'd have to at least put on a good show before the royal court. He considered he last words. Lord, I am a Lord. The proper form of address would be my Lord or your Lordship. The next three events were, to his mind at least, protection and balm to her. As soon as he had corrected her form of address, one of the guards made to strike her. He immediately threw up his hand. Halt. Do not presume against my property. She is mine now, unless you question Her Majesty's orders. She is mine now and I will be the only man to touch her from hence forth. Any other man that touches her will die. The guard dropped his arm and stepped back, glowering. Next Thatch stepped up to her grabbing her chain at the neck and forcibly kissed her. He jammed his tongue in her mouth and gave her a deeply passionate kiss. He knew at first she would assume he was being just like any other master she'd had. More importantly the eyes and ears of the castle would report to the queen that he had taken to his new slave readily. But after a moment she began to feel the chaffing wounds of her shackles heal and the pain of the strikes to her ribs recede. He gave her a slight negation to warn her not to react to it. The last thing that he did in the castle for her was to look at the guard and say, Remove her shackles. The guard's eyes widened and started to protest, My Lord this one is too much a fighter and and wild to to give that kind of freedom to. Thatch laid his hand on the hilt of his sword and raised and eyebrow at the man. The guard then could not get her shackles off quickly enough. Finally he looked back at her and said, Well, come on then. I suppose there is no putting this off or wishing this wasn't happening. He picked up chain still attached to her collar and led her, not very gently out of the side entrance to the castle. He knew as long as he was in the capitol he'd be subject to the eyes and ears of the queen. He led her to a tavern and sat them down at a table in the back and ordered them both a large meal. Looking to her he asked, Well, we are in quite a situation aren't we?