Thread: His  Daughter the Slave [Edward Thatch  Karo]

Yes, he had sat up the whole night watching, no keeping watch over his daughter. And he thought. He thought about a great many things. He thought about her abduction and having been forbidden to use military force to get her back. Though in retrospect perhaps that was wise. If he'd attacked en masse they could have used her against him or just killed her to punish him. Though then he would never have stopped till every man, woman and child of this nation lay dead, still they might have thought it worth the chance to kill her to halt his intended invasion. He still was not completely unsure he shouldn't go over to the temple and put every living being there that was not a slave to the blade. But if he did that getting back out of the country would be much harder and he would not further risk he baby girl. He thought of the number 13. She would have to be his slave for 13 years. By time she was free she would be too old for any of the other Lords to consider for marriage. This also effectively ruined her future and hope at a marriage. What kind of love life could she have under his gaze all the time. He saw her nude for again in his mind and that was what had consumed most of his mind most of the night. His shameful and lustful new awareness of her as a woman and a stunning woman at that. He had feared that his unwelcome thoughts might show through to her and then in utter horror he saw her covering her self and knew, knew she saw his shame and his monsterousness. He loved her, but how could love him anymore knowing the unbidden thoughts that had come to him. She was a beautiful woman and he'd have to be blind not to see it, but for it to even for an instant heat his blood? He shook his head. She began stirring and he watched and considered the entirety of their situation. Then he saw her covering herself with the blanket and with a deep hurt he looked away from her. She knew. She knew he'd, as unwillingly as it have have been, she knew he'd had those thoughts. His deepest shame was laid bare to her. How could he see him the same? He knew the answer, or at least thought he did. She could not. Look how she now has enough wariness and revulsion of him to feel the need to consciously keep herself covered. What kind of torture with the next years with him be for her? How will she endure it knowing that those thoughts can even in passing occur to him. He figured he must disgust her now. When she finally spoke it mildly surprised him do deeply was he in his reflections. Without saying a word and keeping he eyes averted from her he got the fresh water that was left outside the door this morning, poured and brought her a glass. It was an awkward proposition, as he would not even look in her direction enough to see where to place the glass. He saw her new found modesty with him, twice now and knew he would not cause her the heart ache of believing he hungered after in that way. He didn't of course. They were just stray thoughts, just a new awareness of her. But the thought had registered on his face and she had seen. Her reaction told him she, in some small way, now feared him, as he so believed anyway, and it broke his heart, but he could not make her see him as she had before. He could not make her comfortable in her body with him as she had been. Maybe he was over thinking it. Maybe he was reading too much into her reactions. Maybe she felt none of those things or maybe she was uncomfortable because she was the only one unclothed. Perhaps if he had last night to bath the commonality of it the sharing of it with each other would have made her more at ease, or not. The bottom line was he didn't know. Not really and couldn't without asking her and he could not imagine do that.