The young Irish lass glared at her capturer, her right cheek red where her English oppressor had left his mark.
"Now princess, I'll ask you one more time, where are your father's troops located and how many men are there?" Arthur growled.
"I would never betray my father, not as long as I hold my country's pride. Torture me, kill me, but you will never tear a word from me." You said, with dignity.
Lord Arthur, the Scourge of Ireland, a fierce warlord and an enemy feared and hated by all in your country.
Arthur raised his hand once more to deliver a blow; you stayed strong, never wincing, never letting tears show, as you were bound to the chair, the ropes biting at your wrists.
But the blow never came, "Srgt. Alfred take this wench to the post, but try not to let anyone have their way with her. I don't want any of the men to soil their bodies with her filth. But if they want to be animals, then I'm not going to stop them." He said indifferently with a bored like manner.
"Yes sir."
"Oh and Srgt. Alfred, she won't be receiving food or water for 2 days and 3 nights, am I understood?"
"Yes sir."
"Good, I will be seeing you win we dine tonight."
When Arthur had left, Alfred untied you from the chair and tied you up against the post. Your hands were tied to the other side of the post. Then Alfred noticed that your green and gold trimmed dress' square-cut neckline had shifted and was hanging a little lower than it should be. "Don't move." And then a little quieter he said, "Pardon me." Then he shifted the dress up so your breasts weren't showing off so much.
You nodded in acknowledgement but didn't thank him. He nodded; he had expected that kind of response.
"Well um…good night I suppose." He said then walked off.
You looked at the back of him oddly; he was strangely kind despite that he was the favored subordinate of Arthur.
The two days and two nights passed accordingly, and finally you were able to squeeze your wrists free of the biting cords that had torn into your skin. You, didn't stop to get back the circulation in your wrists, you just ran, heading for the mouth of the forest.
Your hunger and thirst impaired your ability to see right, and you ran into something, falling on your back. "Damn tree." You grumbled, and then looked up in horror to see Arthur; you couldn't help show the fear in your face.
Without closing his pants, he grabbed your wrists and pulled you up, "Well look what we have here. The little bird has flown the coop, but the fox has found her."
"Let me go! You blasted fool!" You growled as you tried to wrench away from his grasp. Finally you did something that you wouldn't normally do, even to the enemy, you kneed him and the groins, and instead of letting you go, he collapsed and you both went down.
"You…horrid…bitch!" He squeaked, "You'll pay for that one for sure!"
You thought he was going to slap you again like he had before, but instead he pulled you over his lap and swatted you a couple of times. "There, you incorrigible child!"
"Child!" You gasped, "Why you're not much older than I!"
"Ha! I would say not! You couldn't be any older than fifteen!"
"I'm just small for my age!"
"Oh? And how old would be then?" He sneered.
"Seventeen, and you Mr. Ancient?"
"Ancient! You insufferable brat! I happen to be twenty-seven."
You couldn't help but laugh, "But you look like a baby yourself."
He looked a little disgruntled at that but then said, "Its best I get you back to camp now."
"Best for me, or best for you?" She snarled, as he still held her, within his grasp.
"Me of course, but anyhow if you would only answer me, you might just get released, and then you can go home."
"Or so you would think." You hissed.
"As a man of my word, I say the truth when I say that would release you." Arthur insisted harshly.
"True as that may be, I would be able to go home you blasted idiot!" You said trying hard to keep the tears unshed.
"Why ever not!"
"You are daft aren't you? My father would renounce me and exile me, I would bring shame and dishonor to the family if I returned home after having given you the knowledge!"
"Oh…I never thought of that before."
"Just what I thought, for you have no brain!"
"Well, you know I still can't let you go."
"Then you know my predicament." You said.
"I do. If I beat and kill you I won't get an answer from you, and I lose my only valuable lead. But if I was somehow able to extract the answers, you couldn't go home anyways."
"So what do you suppose I do? Tell you everything I know and then let me wander off aimlessly?"
"It would be easier on me…but I couldn't do that…not even to you."
You looked at him curiously, "Why?"
Arthur sighed and sat down on a boulder, and you sat beside him, "When I told my father that I didn't want to fight Ireland, he renounced my own title, and when I begged him for his forgiveness he never gave me back my title as prince, no, in fact he's planning on making my younger brother king. He instead made me a warlord, but he promised that if I take your land, that I would be made an earl."
"Ow…that's harsh…even if I had done what you had, my father would take pride in the fact that I am a whole-hearted person who would rather solve things diplomatically."
"Gawd, what am I going to do? Either way I've lost everything. I was the high priest and now I might as well be nothing."
"Arthur…maybe we got off on the wrong hand, you know…it might take some convincing, but this is your choice, else I wouldn't ask, but if you have lost all pride in you were, then you can pride yourself in who you can be."
"What are you trying to say?"
"Join me and we can solve our differences diplomatically. I know I'm asking you to somewhat betray your country, but you have nothing to lose right?"
He smiled, "Hell with it, I'll fight with you, I'll call to my troops, and..."
"Yes?"
Arthur tenderly leaned in and planted a fierce yet tender but passionate kiss on your lips. "May I court you?"
You smiled, "Sure, but first things first."
"And what's that?"
You giggled and whispered into his ear.
He blushed beet red and buckled his pants, having forgotten all about them.
"Now, let's go have a talk with your troops." You said lending your hand.
He smiled and took your hand, "Yes let's, over tea I should think, you must be starving."
And so, that's how the Scrouge and the Fire of Ireland, changed history.