The Price

Disclaimer: I am not a Theologian, a Historian, or a TV Producer; I therefore do not own anything.

Chapter II: Do Not Do as I Have Done

His large, bare arm kept her breasts pressed into the rough wood of the table while his hand tangled painfully in her snarled, unbound hair, yanking it up by the roots so he could nip at her neck, breath tainted with wine, teeth searching for blood. He bucked her hips into the sharp edge of the table with a bruising force as he pounded his member into her again and again, bringing her nothing but a chafing pain. Her eyes closed tight she tried to endure. Tried to call happier times to mind. Her husband's smile, his uninhibited laugh, their first kiss. Anything but the slick feel of the erupted boil on the back of her thigh and the pain deep within her sex as he thrust into her dry until she felt raw.

"Say it," he hissed in her ear, voice laced with poison, "say my name."

"H…Henry." She whimpered, he yanked her head back – hard, she could feel her neck popping from the assault.

"Louder. Say it louder, *scream*. Tell the world who's fucking you!"

"Henry."

"Again!"

"Henry!" his free hand came down hard against the side of her bottom, flesh cracking against flesh like the sound of a musket's fire.

"LOUDER!"

"HENRY!"

The sting of hot water and a rough rag did nothing to remove the pervasive feeling of him on her, no matter how hard she scrubbed; her nails could not dig him from her flesh, he haunted her, hung on her. But that did not stop her from trying. He was in her head and she'd be damned if she let any trace of him remain on her skin. But the more she tried the more she failed. It had been a dream, only a dream. Except it had been real.

"Mother!" the shocked exclamation from behind her caused Elizabeth to jump, her sudden, wild movement upsetting the pot over the fire, hot water scalding her bare flesh.

Bette watched as her Mother – in – Law sank onto the bench and laid her head on the kitchen table a sob cutting from her chest, her bare chest. The babe had, as it often did, Bette too uncomfortable to sleep, restless and hungry it had lead her to the kitchen at three in the morning. She had every expectation of being alone, as she often was during these night walks. She had never expected to find her husband's mother by the fire, naked as birth ferociously scrubbing the inside of her thighs. And now, and now the great woman, her father's princess and her husband's knight was sobbing into her arms, breasts bare, sagging with sorrow, shaking slightly, sadly. The younger woman could not but stare at her elder.

Her blonde curls were up in a messy bun, the curtain of hair lifted to reveal her bare back and upper arms, dark bruises marring the otherwise pale skin. The mark on her neck looked fresh and painful, as did the five red welts on her flank. She looked as if she had been through hell. Gregory claimed his parents had a very healthy relationship, an active relationship, but that was not the story Elizabeth's body told. She did not look as if she had been with a lover; she looked as if she had been in a fight. Her father in law was many things, Bette knew, and above all he was gentle with the ones he loved. He would never hurt his wife; his hands would not bring about such a display.

Grabbing the first pitcher she could lay her hands on Bette hurriedly waddled to her elder's side.

"I'm so sorry, Elizabeth, I am so unuse to others being around at this hour." Daughter spoke to mother, trying to sooth the scalded flesh, but to no avail, Elizabeth pushed her hands away and curled tightly in on herself, a tight ball of limbs and sorrow. Elizabeth the younger could not process what was going on around her, and so for a heart wrenching moment she watched a great woman fight to take control of herself. And in time she did, slightly, enough to speak as she wrapped her dressing gown tightly around her.

"Bette," She whispered, reaching out a slim hand to take her daughter by the arm, her blue eyes meeting brown ones like a river met the shore. "You must promise me, promise me that you will not do as I have done." There was heart break in her voice, Bette felt her eyes widen.

"What is it? What have you done?" But it was too late, she was gone.