Blood Begets Blood (1x1) [Currently Abandoned]

[Chive It Up]

Mario stared at the cup in Theodore's hand, knowing that there were still four dice hidden from view. Four dice that he didn't know. If Theodore made a correct guess for himself, he'd win. Unless Theo guessed wrong, Mario guessed correctly and all four of the dice Theodore had were the same, he would lose.

And naturally, the boy was distracting him with talk of a woman's warmth. It would be months before Mario had another woman beneath him. Perhaps buying some woman to stay aboard the ship for the next leg of the journey would be a good idea. She'd have to be easy.. and willing to sleep with all the men. Mario wouldn't buy someone for himself and then have to protect her from desperate cocks. If only he could have a slave aboard, he'd have to feed her.. but he wouldn't have to account for her safety.

“I can tell how hard it is, regazzo,” Mario commented, still staring at the cup as if he could see through it. “I've seen the way you stare off and heard the way you sigh to yourself in quiet. You're a damned fool to be away from your woman when the two of you are so fond of one another. I've a wife. Somewhere. Ain't seen her for years, don't really care to, either.” Leaning back in his chair now, he scowled, “A five. God above, a five at least, eh?”

- - - -

Breccan turned his back to Carlotta, moving out of the room altogether. Her eyes followed after him and then she turned back to look at the room. Did she buy all of this? She couldn't remember seeing some of it before. But it was here, so she must have ordered it. Likely it had been done when Theo had been to market with her one day. With a heavy heart, she moved over to one of the lounges and sat down, running her fingers over the upholstery. It was a deep burgundy color. Perhaps it should go in the master suite..? She would have loved to as Theodore..

Standing up, she followed after Breccan, trailing the way he had gone. It seemed he'd turned to go into the courtyard. Carlotta longed to see it in the Spring time.. fully in bloom with bright colors. “Breccan,” she called to him, hugging herself tightly again, “Mr. Walker hasn't... tried to come by, has he? I've not heard word that he'd been harassing the staff but I.. I didn't know if he'd even attempted to show his face.” Carlotta wasn't quite sure how much she'd angered him by running off.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Theodore didn't know he was so obvious in his longing for Carlotta. It was almost embarrassing. Mario was right, again. Theodore should have just stayed with his wife and forgotten this foolish dream of becoming a sailor, but Theodore invested too much of his life into this dream to just give it up. It's what he wanted to do with his life, and he wasn't going to let love hinder him. Love made you better, gave you wings; it didn't shackle you. Two people who loved each other could be on opposite ends of the Earth and still be connected. They wanted the other to be happy, though sacrifice was always involved. Theodore impregnated his wife, built her a house, gave her his portrait: he made his sacrifices. Undoubtedly, Carlotta made the most. She gave up so much for him.

All Theodore did was give a little nod ere he turned his focus back to the game. Mario said five, and Theodore had no fives under his cup. A sly smile took hold of his face, and he shook his head at Mario. "You lose your next turn. You've three left. I get a free turn, so... hmmm..." Theodore hummed, rubbing his chin. There was one die left... just one. It wasn't a three... so what was it? From here on it would just be lucky guesses.

"Mm... two?" Theodore guessed, quirking a brow. If he got it wrong, there wouldn't be a penalty, seeing as he had a free call due to Mario's forfeit. He would also get to guess again. If he got it wrong a second time, then he would lost his next turn.





It was bitterly cold outside, so when Breccan heard Carlotta calling to him from the doorstep, he turned around to stare at her with a mildly furrowed brow. What the hell did she want now? What the hell was she doing out in the cold dressed like that? Was she trying to get sick? Breccan had half the mind to march over to her and pull her back inside where it was warm. A sick mistress was an even more tiresome woman than the usual kind. She'd really be useless then, wouldn't she?

Mr. Walker again. Carlotta was so paranoid about that man. What did he do to her? The imaginings in Breccan's mind were horrid, and they chilled him to the core. Snow and wind couldn't cut him to his marrow as deeply as the thoughts in his head. All the signs pointed to some kind of assault. Sexual, most likely. She didn't have any bruising or any limp or physical damage that could be seen... but she was broken somewhere unseen. Her fears were plenty, and she locked herself away most of the day. She was very tense and closed around Breccan, while she was easier around the ladies. Her trust in men had been shaken.

"No, ma'am," Breccan replied, his breath coming out white and mingling with the snow. "Mr. Walker ain't been by since you've come." Breccan took up his shovel and looked down at the snow covered path at his feet. Glancing cursorily at his mistress, he heaved up a shovel load of snow and tossed it aside. "Inside with you, ma'am. You'll catch ill. Pardon my demand, of course. Not my place." He fell to silence, the only sound the scrape of the shovel.






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Mario was wrong. Blast. Unlucky, that. It had to be a six or a three, then. At least he'd get his next guess correct. Though it was entirely possible that Theodore would guess correctly before he had a chance. Then Theodore made his guess and Mario had a sly grin stretched across his lips. “Wrong, regazzo, guess again,” he taunted. If he lost, well, he wouldn't be quite thrilled. Losing to Theodore wasn't so bad, though. Not in private like this. At least he wouldn't have anyone to gloat in front of.

All in all, Theodore was a good man. Mario also knew that meant he was likely to die soon. He couldn't even kill the old ginger beard.. only stolen his property and injured him enough to anger him a great deal. What was he going to do if things got to a fight? Theodore wouldn't be able to do the final blow. He'd hesitate. Get himself killed. Then that pretty little wife of his that he loved so much would have no husband.

“All right, you woman, give me your guess then, so I can have my turn,” Mario grumbled.

Unfortunately for the two of them, their game was to come to a quick end, it would seem. A stubby stout fellow by the name of Ugo burst into Mario's quarters, breathless. “Cap'n,” he practically shouted, “Trouble. Giuseppe's killed Elido in a drunken brawl. He's above deck, men have him.”

“Where's Cesare?” Mario mumbled as he climbed to his feet. Pointing a finger at Theodore, he jerked his head towards the door, “You, come with me,” he ordered, before following Ugo out of the room and up towards the deck. It was cold. The blast of chilled air hit him and struck him through the bones. Sure enough, above deck, two men were holding Giuseppe. It was a good thing they were above deck when they'd had their fight, because blood was easier to wash off. “What happened, eh, figlio di puttana?”

Giuseppe had clearly been in a brawl, his face and knuckled bloody. “He came at me, Cap'n. I had to defend myself.”

“Defend yourself? You idiota. You don't kill a man like this in defense.” Using the toe of his boot, Mario turned the corpse at his feet over onto his back. His face was nothing but a bloody mess, pulp and bone. If he hadn't been told it was Elido, he couldn't have told. “Knock him unconscious, sure. But you murdered him. For your stupidity, we're down two crewman.”

“Two?” Giuseppe paled at the comment, realizing he'd cost himself his own life. He began to struggle against the two men holding him and beg for mercy.

Mario withdrew his rapier and turned towards Theodore, a scowl still on his face. He lowered his voice so only the young dark-haired man could hear. “You're a scrawny little stronzo, you can't rely on brute force to kill a man. You go swiftly. You can't hack a man to pieces, either. A man can live without an arm or leg or eye. You go for the sure kill. Straight into the heart,” Mario turned to hold the sword out for Theodore to take, “You know where the heart is, don't you?”

- - - -

Carlotta was a little relieved that Donovan had not been by to harass her or her staff. Perhaps he didn't know where she'd gone? No, that was foolish. He knew. And he knew why she ran off. He was just lucky she hadn't spoken a word to Ruth before she'd gone. Maybe she should.. surely Ruth deserved to know what sort of man she was married to. Though, telling Ruth meant that she would open herself to be physically punished by the man. And she wasn't sure it was worth the risk.

“Yes,” Carlotta answered absently, “I'll go inside.. I can't catch ill.. not with the baby..” She chewed her lip as she turned away, starting back towards the house, though she paused briefly. Glancing back at Breccan. “Breccan. I want to go to market in the morning. I'd like you to accompany me. Along with Bethany. I would.. feel safer if you were there.” She needed some muscle to keep her safe, and even if Breccan wasn't violent, no one else knew that. “I expect you to be ready after breakfast.” Then, turning away she went inside the house, closing the door behind her.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Theodore was about to make his second guess when a stout little man barreled his way into the cabin. Theodore knew him as Ugo, though he wasn't exactly friends with him. No, they didn't have any discord, they just... weren't two people that hooked up. Theodore liked everyone well enough, but he had his group of good friends outside of his acquaintances. Luckily Elido and Giuseppe weren't among his good friends. He knew them, knew them to be violent, but he didn't go out of his way to be friendly to them. Giuseppe killed Elido? That's what this interruption was all about? Oh, lord. Oh, no. A dead body up there... blood in the snow... no, no, Theodore was just going to stay down in the cabin and avoid the whole mess. He wasn't the captain. He wasn't anyone important. Nope.

Dread flooded the cavity of Theodore's chest and began dripping down into his stomach. Mario was commanding him to come along. Why? Why on earth? Theodore wanted to ask if that was an order, but he knew he'd get the affirmative. There was a nauseating sense of foreboding as he scooted back from the table and thudded after Mario. His heart was pounding wildly, sweat began to prickle his brow, and his palms grew clammy. Maybe it was just because there was death nearby. After all, someone he knew was just killed in cold blood. That wasn't something to take lightly, especially not for someone like him. Death was... frightening for Theodore.

Stepping out onto the deck, Theodore was met with a gruesome scene. His flesh paled, and he looked away from Elido's corpse with knots in his stomach. It was disgusting. Blood and flesh and slick white. Luckily, Theodore had an iron-lined stomach. Vomiting wasn't common for him, but that didn't mean he could look upon fleshy pulp with ease. Who could? Oh, right: pirates. Everyone around him could look and be at rest. That was a disturbing notion, wasn't it?

Giuseppe was struggling against the large hands that held him, and Theodore watched him with judgmental eyes. That is, until Mario leaned over and told him to do the honors. Theodore stepped away and back from Mario, head shaking vehemently. He refused to touch the rapier, refused to play the Hand of God in this. No, he would not be the one to punish Giuseppe. Theodore couldn't kill a man. Murder was the worst of all sin. Murder was taking life away, ending what should not be ended by human hand. It was unnatural. It was soul staining. Theodore wouldn't, couldn't. No.

"I won't," Theodore refused, voice shaking from more than the cold. "It's not my place. You're the captain. You're the one to punish him. I won't..."

Benito, one of Theodore's actual friends, came up to him and grabbed the front of his furs in grimy fingers. Benito was a tall, lanky fellow with thin, stringy, oily, black hair. He wore a goatee and mustache, though a beard was beginning to form on his angular jaw. His teeth were yellow and rotted, his breath foul as death. He had beady blue eyes, the whites yellowed and bloodshot. Gold rings lined both ears, the grey furs around his neck and shoulders swallowing them so they were mere glimmers that may be dream matter instead of reality. The snow drenched, crinkly hair hung half in his face as he leaned closer to Theodore's. Oh, the aire coming from his mouth was like the stench from a rotting corpse.

"Shut up, Theo!" Benito hissed through his filthy teeth. "You do it, rat. Ye ain't nothin' here if ye can't reap. I promise ye ye'll die on this ship if ye don't learn to kill, ragazzo. Yer worthless as ye are, laddie. Until ye've drawn lifeblood, yer nothin' but a pretty face. Men'll start thinkin' yer soft... and they'll start lookin' to use ye in ways ye'll never forget. Yer weak. Yer wet behind the ears. Toughen up, boy, and get a towel," he growled, shoving Theodore towards the rapier. "Spend the rest of the trip in the brig if ye chicken out, that ye will, boy-o," Benito added. "Spill. His. Blood."

Theodore felt entirely betrayed by Benito. Friend? Pft. Was the brig worth it? Could he really spend weeks in a rat infested, cold, dank, and dark cell? And when he came out... would the crewmen really... try to use him? Theodore had an idea what Benito was getting at, and that was not worth anything. He didn't have a choice, did he?

Swallowing, Theodore hesitated. This was a step in the direction he'd been refusing to go. Taking the rapier from Mario, Theodore looked to Giuseppe with wide and fearful eyes. It was nothing like the fear in Giuseppe's, however. It felt as if the world had gone silent, the only sound being Theodore's heart in his ears. Ba-thump-ba-thump-ba-thump. Fast, hard, painful. He could hear himself breathing, hear the trembling breath exiting his lungs and entering like icy knives. He was about to kill a man. He was about to commit the worst mortal sin. Would praying to God save his soul from this stain?

Theodore grabbed Giuseppe's shoulder and pressed the tip of the rapier against the man's beating heart. There was an intense moment where he just stared into the scared, panicked eyes... almost as if he was taking a moment to process these eyes bore the final seconds of life they'd ever possess. Then, with a sharp inhale, Theodore gripped the handle of the rapier tightly and drove it through Giuseppe's chest. There was a split second of choking life, another of driving the sword to the hilt, and then all light vanished from Giuseppe's eyes.

Theodore felt himself being pulled back by multiple hands, heard cheers and felt claps, but all he could see was the sword being pulled from Giuseppe's corpse, all he could hear was the splashes of the water as the bodies were tossed overboard. Despite the heavy scent of murder in the air, the snow continued to sweetly swirl down.






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Mario watched as the fear took hold of Theodore's face. Sternly, the co-Captain of the ship kept his gaze on the young man. He was backing away in fear. Afraid. God above, he was afraid. Theo insisted it wasn't his place to punish Giuseppe, and it wasn't. Not exactly. But this little whelp had to learn his own place.. and if he wanted to be a Pirate. To sail the seas for glory and treasure and adventure, he was going to have to learn everything that entailed being a Pirate. Cesare may have marooned Giuseppe on an island somewhere, but there were no islands around these parts. Besides, Mario wasn't as forgiving as his cousin.

He'd begun to open his mouth and insist the young man do as he was ordered, but Benito came up to do that for him. A disgusting little rat of a man, that one. But that didn't make him any less right, did it? If Theodore disobeyed an order, he may very well spend a fair amount of time in the brig.

And then.. courage. From somewhere, he'd summoned courage. And then he'd taken the life that deserved to be taken. Giuseppe died rather quickly, and Theodore became a briefly celebrated man. He'd killed his first man, and with it, he'd killed a part of himself. Mario remembered the first time he'd killed, though every other time after that was forgettable. Best Theodore get that over with now.

Moving over to the English man, he clasped a hand on his shoulder, turning him away from the crowd, “If you want to make it back to your wife, you have to learn how to stay alive. Which means you have to learn how to kill. Now.” Patting him on the back, he gave a nod, “Let us go finish that game, hm? It's your turn.”

- - - -

Carlotta had poured herself a glass of wine and started up the stairs to her room again. The house was quiet. Still. It felt so empty, and she wished more than anything that her husband would be here with her. His laughter could have filled up the entire house. He would have been able to comfort her, to make her feel at ease. To fix everything that was wrong. But he wasn't.

No, Theodore had gone off to pursue his dream of traveling, and she wished she'd gone with him. Of course, she'd wished she hadn't been pregnant.. that would have made traveling with him a great deal easier. They couldn't very well take a midwife with them, could they? What sense did it make for her to go, anyway? A merchant ship wouldn't want a woman on board.. nor a midwife. Oh, but Theodore wasn't on a merchant ship, was he? Everyone said so. No merchant ships had sailed for Italy..

So many things didn't make sense. And yet.. they were beginning to make sense in another matter.. one that she didn't quite like.

Still, Carlotta couldn't lay about feeling sorry for herself. She was a strong woman, and Donovan had committed a heinous act. One he would pay for eventually. But she had to get up and move on with her life.. she had to get her house into working order.. make sure everything was perfect and ready when the baby arrived and Theodore returned. She wanted to lure him into staying with her.

“Oh, Mistress!” Bethany called out, spotting Carlotta up and about. She'd come around the corner from the other room. She smiled warmly and started up the stairs after her. “I'm so glad to see you up and about.. is there anything I can do for you?”

“Yes... come, I'd like to speak with you about some things..” she said quietly, leading the way up the stairs.

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Theodore couldn't believe how easily these people dismissed murder. Death was like second nature to them. Death was a default. Stabbing men through the heart, tossing them into freezing water: all of that was common business. They cheered for it. They thought it a grand spectacle, just how crowds would gather at hangings and beheadings. Why was death so enjoyable? Was everyone just sick? Theodore couldn't handle it, couldn't wrap his head around what he just did. He took a man's life away. He drove a sword through a man's beating heart. There wasn't a drop of blood on him, but he felt filthy and dirty and stained with Giuseppe's lifeblood. Oh, Theodore was surely going to Hell now. He likely was before, but he'd tried to straighten out and get right. Now... there was no redemption for this. He didn't believe there was forgiveness strong enough for murder.

Doom dropped onto Theodore's head, and guilt clung to his back as he moved mechanically down the stairs. A game. What game? Oh, the dice. Mario was ready to go back and finish a dice game... after he just ordered a man to be stabbed through the heart? Theodore certainly wasn't ready to sit back down and throw numbers around for drinks and wenches. He'd just become a murderer. Oh, lord, when he thought of it that way he just wanted to throw himself off the side of the ship and die. Murderer. Murderer. Theodore had been able to handle everything... but not this. Giuseppe was someone's son. Giuseppe had been a friend to men who... who cheered for his death! What sort of place was this!?

Theodore, upon arriving back in the captain's cabin, took a seat in his chair all slumped and dead eyed. Her didn't cease to tremble, and he felt like a rabbit amongst wolves. This wasn't the life for him. He couldn't live out here, not if the payment was made in lives. It was different if a man was defending himself. Death during defense was excusable. Death dealt by order was not. Giuseppe didn't have to die. Giuseppe could have been thrown in the brig and marooned somewhere. He deserved punishment, aye, but not like that. Not by Theodore's hand. Was this supposed to teach him how to kill? All it did was make him want to hole himself away and forget where he was. Oh, lord, he wanted Carlotta. He wanted Plymouth. He wanted his mother. Oh, God above, how he wanted his mother. He wanted... he wanted Anna.

Looking at the cups, Theodore didn't even remember what was going on. He lifted his eyes to Mario's face. "I forfeit the game. You win. I'll pay for your company at port next..." he said insipidly, robotically. "I'm tired..."

Pushing away from the table, Theodore strode heavily out of the cabin and disappeared down the hall.






Breccan was clearing up the cobblestone pathway when he heard footsteps crunching in the snow. Looking up, he was met with a bundled up Donovan Walker. A chill settled in his chest that wasn't from the snow, and he straightened up, his grip tightening on the shovel. Maybe Mr. Walker was just coming to see how landscaping was coming along. Breccan hadn't done nearly as much as he wanted, seeing as it was winter and it was snowing. He was working on digging and filling the holes with hay to protect them, working on outlining beds with rocks, but he had to keep the path clear for visitors and for travel to the stable or the shed, for leaving the house to go to town. Even if Mr. Walker was just coming for a look about, Breccan was made aware that the dark fellow was truly dark. A molester... an assaulter... a rapist... a violent abuser: he could be any or all of those. Breccan just knew Mr. Walker had done something terrible.

"Ah, Mr. Booth," Donovan said amiably, holding out a hand for a shake.

"Mr. Walker," Breccan replied, shaking the man's hand. "What brings you here? Weather's bad for your business 'bout these parts. I've got things well managed, sir."

"I don't doubt it, I don't doubt it," Donovan replied with a smile and a nod. "You work hard, Mr. Booth. Mrs. Rothemburg's lucky to have your services. Speaking of, is she taking visitors?"

"She's not, sir," Breccan said shortly.

"Perhaps she'd see me, though? After all, I--"

"No, sir," Breccan interrupted lowly, "Mrs. Rothemburg certainly does not want to entertain you."

"Oh?" Donovan asked dangerously, his demeanor flipping instantly. "Why's that?"

"I ain't privy to that knowledge, sir, but I've been given orders to keep you off this property."

"Keep me off this prop--I run this property in Mr. Rothemburg's absence!" Donovan shouted.

"Do you, sir? I'm quite positive the estate is in Mrs. Rothemburg's name. She runs it. You are simply an overseer by charity, charity which Mrs. Rothemburg has no need of. I'm seeing things through here, Mr. Walker, so if you'd kindly take yourself off the premises, I would be most appreciative of your cooperation," Breccan countered levelly. It was right difficult to get a rise out of him.

"Who do you think you are, Booth? You're a servant, a poor farm lad with nothing. I could crush you and force my way into that damned house," Donovan growled.

"Just like you did to my mistress?" Breccan asked calmly. "Force seems to be your default, sir."

Donovan swung. Breccan ducked just in time, causing Donovan to stagger in his own momentum. Breccan lifted his shovel, and when Donovan made to turn around, Breccan clocked that mother right in the head. Down went Goliath, and Breccan stabbed his shovel into the snow ere he crouched down to check Donovan's pulse. Blood oozed from his head, but he was still alive. Good. Now all Breccan had to do was hoist this fallen "mighty" Titan and throw him onto the horse's back. Donovan had tied his horse to a post a few yards down.

With a bit of strain, Breccan lifted the dead weight with a groan and trudged those few yards (which felt like miles) to the patient horse and managed to get Donovan over the saddle. Sighing, Breccan untied the horse and turned it around, gave it a slap on its rear, and watched it dart off towards home. Horses were smart that way; they went back home.

Grimacing, Breccan placed a hand to his back and began his slow trek towards the door. Man, he was only thirty-three, but his back couldn't handle a ton of bricks. Donovan weighed about that much. Damnable ape.






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Mario took his seat at the table and watched as the young Theodore stood out of his seat, announcing that he was tired and wished for forfeit the game. That was well enough. The Captain wasn't going to stop him. Perhaps the man just needed to rest and pray for forgiveness of his sins, hm? He'd have to get over that. You couldn't be an honest pious man, and live on a Pirate ship. That was the price you paid.

After a few moments, Mario leaned across the table, mostly out of curiosity, and lifted the cup that Theodore had used. He then grinned and chuckled to himself at the dice. He should have guess, hm? Ah, well, he'd still won.. though it hadn't been in the way he'd thought that he would.

Picking himself up once again, he moved towards the door, heading down to where his cousin had supposedly been holing himself up. Probably asleep, the lazy good for nothing wretch. Ah, perhaps Cesare would be upset with the turn of events? Mario had punished someone without his permission, though they were equal, what permission did he need? “Cesare!” Mario called, “Get your lazy carcass up, we've business to discuss.”

- - - -

Carlotta led Bethany up the stairs and towards the main suite of the house. “I am.. not quite myself lately..” she admitted quietly, “I don't wish to discuss the cause of my grief, but I'm not well. Besides that.. my husband and I are away from one another for the first time since our marriage.. and I'm expecting a child. There's a lot on my mind.” That went without saying, of course. Bethany already knew all of these things, even if she hadn't been explicitly told. Servants told rumors and spread news.

Opening the door to her bedroom, she took a deep breath. “But I have to.. try and move forward with my life. I need to make sure that my home is ready for the arrival of my child.. and for my husband.. when he returns from his trip.” Turning around, she did her best to smile at the young brunette. “I need your help, Beth. I need you to be a friend to me. I need you to.. guide me in how to best.. arrange the house and tend to things. And I need you to keep me safe.”

“Safe?” Bethany asked, uncertain, “My lady, Breccan is no brute. I know you've said you don't want him near your room but-”

“Breccan isn't the problem, Beth.” Carlotta cut in sharply. Exhaling she spoke calmer now, “I'm sorry. I just.. his presence makes me uncomfortable.. not that he is a problem. I'm afraid for my safety, Beth. There may be people hired to hurt me or.. I'm not sure. But I'm afraid.”

Bethany shook her head, smiling sympathetically, “Miss, there is no one who wishes to see you harmed. You'll be safe, I promise.” Carlotta wasn't quite sure that was the case..

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Cesare had indeed been sleeping. One couldn't blame him, for he'd been steering the ship most of the night. Aye, there were shifts, but Cesare was up for most of the moon's reign, and it was colder then. He'd about froze to death out there beneath the midnight snow, feet planted at the helm. It wasn't every night that he did that, but last night had been one of those nights. Sure, he was the captain; he could assign shifts to everyone else and not lift a finger, but what sort of captain was that? A captain was an example to his crew, a worker just like the rest of them. He did his share, and Cesare always held onto his pirate's honor. In the pirating world, Cesare was a good man. In the real world... he was a filthy scoundrel. Funny how that works.

Mario's booming voice caused the older of the cousins to jolt awake and inhale through his nose sharply, eyes barely opening as he glanced around in mid stretch upon the cot. There was an incoherent mumble in Italian ere Cesare slapped his hands to his bearded face and rubbed. Sighs upon groans upon sighs wafted out of his mouth as he slowly sat up and opened his heavy eyes. With his feet planted flat against the cold boards of the floor, Cesare looked up at his younger cousin with an expression that displayed deep dissatisfaction mixed with a healthy dose of contempt.

"Pezzo di merda... the hell do you want?" Cesare muttered sleepily, his light brown hair hanging loosely about his shoulders. "I should kill you for this, bastardo. You know I was up all night. Damn you, Mario... let me sleep. Esci. Va via. Fottiti."






Breccan made it into the house with a sigh. He had half the mind to go straight up to Carlotta and tell her what happened, but he'd pulled his back and... well, he really would like to get that taken care of first. With that thought in mind, Breccan went towards the servant quarters in search of Bethany. She was the head housemaid, so she was the one you went to to get things done. Sure, the other girls could help, but all of them were flirtatious chits. If Breccan asked them to start a steaming bath for him and then walk on his back afterwards... they'd go into ovary overdrive. No, thank you. Breccan wasn't interested in any of the girls here. Bethany was pretty, but she was the only one he could trust to do anything, and he wouldn't mix up work with a relationship. If he broke her heart, she might never fix his back again.

Not finding Bethany where she usually was, Breccan turned to go search upstairs. She might be fixing up some of the rooms, poking the fires. He could have asked the other girls, but... again, he didn't want to get into any conversations with them. He was the only male servant in this house, and it didn't help that he was attractive. He was big, bearded, icy eyed, and gentlemanly: tinder for an ovarian fire. Nope. Nope, nope, nope.

It was like death going up the stairs, and Breccan hadn't hurt himself this terrible since the time he was thrown off his horse. That was likely why he had so much back trouble. He'd hurt his back rather terribly that day, and ever since then it ailed him periodically. Lifting extremely heavy things would throw it out, and Donovan had certainly been heavy. Not to mention, Breccan has been hauling furniture about all day. To no avail.

After climbing Mount Everest, Breccan hobbled down the hallway peering into the rooms. Grumbling and huffing, he finally came upon Carlotta's room. Lo and behold, there was Bethany. Well, damn. If she was with Carlotta, he couldn't rightly ask her to help him. He was last on the list compared to the mistress. Giving an apologetic move of his hand, he turned and started back down the hallway. Why did he have to be the only man around here? He felt like he was tiptoeing on glass.






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Mario rolled his eyes at his cousin's complaining. Lazy slouch. Good for nothing sack of s**t. Yes, of course, he'd worked all night steering the ship, didn't mean he wasn't still being lazy right now. “Non mi rompere i coglioni,” he complained, closing the door behind him and making sure it was secure before leaning against it. He didn't want to get any closer, just in case he wanted to start a fight.

“Trouble. Above deck. Giuseppe killed Elido in a fight. I had him killed as punishment. Your pet, Theo, had him do the deed. Regazzo needed to bagnare il suo cazzo, as it were.” Mario gave a small shrug of indifference, “Thought you might want to know. The little finocchio might be a bit weepy.”

- - - -

Bethany and Carlotta had been talking quietly amongst themselves about things to be done, when Breccan showed his handsome face. He peered into the room, clearly in search of something, then, seeing them, waved his hand and walked away. Bethany frowned and looked to the mistress, “Just a moment, miss,” she said politely. Turning away from the woman, she hurried to the hallway with a smile.

Oh, Breccan was indeed a handsome man. Quite attractive in his face, not to mention the bulk of muscles he had. Every maid and servant in the household went into a titter about him every day. Bethany was always hearing about how handsome he was. Perhaps.. hearing those things began to fill her own mind with silly little imaginings. But no, she wasn't interested in marrying some farm boy. Nor was she going to throw herself at some man.

“Breccan, come back,” Bethany said with a giggle, “I know that look.. and that hobble. What in God's name did you do to yourself? Can't have hurt yourself shoveling snow, can you?” Turning to look into the room, Bethany smiled to Carlotta, “Breccan hurts his back all of the time, Miss. Seems only I can cure his aches.”

This was most intriguing to Carlotta. Following in the younger woman's footsteps, she went to peer out into the hall at Breccan. Hurt his back? Only Beth can cure it? How in the world did that work? Was this healing something more sexual in nature? Were there deviants in her household? “Then.. I suppose I should let you tend to him, hm? We'll finish our talks later..”

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Cesare only stared dull and hard at his cousin for a span of minutes that felt like ages had passed them by. Was everyone on the ship still alive? Was the English king still reigning? Had fashion completely changed, and now what Cesare wore was out of style? Oh, wait, it had only been about two minutes, not two decades. The pirate captain finally whirred to life like some obstinate machine, sucking in a long breath and exhaling with a shake of his head. Pushing his hand through his long hair, he closed his eyes and fell to stillness. Men killing men on his ship. Elido was a good worker. Giuseppe was too eager to spill blood. Now both of them were dead in the sea for the sharks to harvest. Pity, that. And poor Theodore. It wasn't the boy's place to do the deed, and Cesare was right ill with his younger cousin's decisions.

The elder of the two got onto his feet and swaggered over to the younger, bending and leaning as much as he needed to so that he was looking Mario square in the eyes up close. A somewhat gentle hand lighted upon Mario's shoulder, and Cesare smiled basely; it didn't touch his eyes.

"While you are this ship's captain beside me, I believe we have an accord," Cesare purred, his hand instantly tightening. "We make these kinds of decisions together, cuginetto. Today, you have went and killed one of our men without asking me first. You have also forced a boy to do what was not his duty. While I agree he needs to learn, this was not the way to teach him, piccolo idiota. This was your sole decision, so you should have carried it through on your own. If you want him to kill, you put a sword in his hand and teach him how without drawing out life. You are like a bambino, always needing to be corrected and fed from a breast," Cesare said calmly. His temper was always passive.

Shoving Mario away, Cesare moved towards the low table in the room where three candles burned and flickered ominously. He motioned his cousin over, his eyes unforgiving. "Venire qui. If you are allowed to make life or death, soul tarnishing decisions without me, surely you realize I have every right to make a decision on my own without your input. Defy me, cugino, and I'll throw you to the rats."







Breccan stopped hobbling when Bethany called out to him. Turning to look at her, he gave an apologetic smile. She was busy, and tending to him was not of utmost importance. He was going to tell her this, but Carlotta decided to join them, giving her opinion that Bethany ought to take care of poor old Breccan's back. Well, if she was all for it, Breccan wouldn't dare refuse. When his back ached like this, burned, he wasn't about to play humble. No, he wanted Bethany, and he wanted her now. Needed her, really. If any work was going to get done around here, his back had to be in tip-top shape. With him down, the house would soon go awry. He didn't want to toot his own horn, but he was pretty much the backbone of this operation.

Since Carlotta was present, Breccan figured he should relay the happenings. "Mrs. Rothemburg, if you'll just stay for a moment," he said quietly. "The reason I'm incapacitated is due to Mr. Walker coming 'round moments ago. He wanted to see you, but I told him you weren't keen on that, just like you told me. Well, he seems prone to violence, seeing as he took a swing at me. Dodged it, took my shovel to his head. Man's clock is squeaky clean. Unfortunately, he weighs as much as an elephant, and lifting him onto his horse did a number on my back. Sent his horse galloping home, but I don't know what will come of this. I hope he ain't stupid enough to tromp back here. I'll likely kill him next time," Breccan ended. It wasn't like him to speak so much, but, y'know.

Breccan turned his bright eyes to Bethany's face, offering a faint smile. "I'd warm a bath myself, but I don't dare lift any cauldrons. Could you? After that, you know what needs doing," he said with a subtle nod. That sounded wrong to ears that weren't aware of the procedure. For him, he needed someone to walk on his back to help alleviate the pain, as well as roll a few knuckles into the aches. It wouldn't be the first time Bethany helped him like that. Sometimes, if she was in a good enough mood, he could even convince her to massage his entire back. Hey, he worked hard; a bit of relaxation wasn't too much to ask. It's not like he was trying to seduce her or get her into bed. He just needed her to help him. Not once had he ever touched her or made comments. That's not the kind of man he was.






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Cesare always thought he was the better man. They were supposedly equals in all things, but that was not the case in either of their minds. Mario thought Cesare was too soft and weak, especially on the men, and Cesare thought Mario was too rash and childlike. Therefore, each of them thought themselves better than the other. Still, they didn't let their vision of equality deter from their roles on the ship. They were both the Captain.

As his cousin gripped his shirt tightly, telling him how he was like a child, and that he'd make a mistake in his decision, it didn't phase Mario at all. Perhaps he was childlike. He certainly didn't mind clinging to a breast all day, if one was available to him. But then.. Cesare said something he'd not expected. He called him over to a table, saying that he too was allowed to make 'soul tarnishing decisions'.

With a huff, Mario crossed the room to the table and sat down, “We are equals Cesare. I didn't make a decision that threatened your power. Theodore can still suck your c**k just a well now as he could before, I wager. But what's this decision, hm? Sounds too convenient you just happen to have one lying around that I'm not allowed to object to.”

- - - -

Carlotta was, well, afraid. Here she'd thought that Mr. Walker had abandoned his cruelty in her absence, since he hadn't tried to come for her in the interim. But now, it would seem, he'd come for her after all. Thank God that Breccan had been outside in the Garden at the time. Though, to her, it seemed the only reason Breccan had won the fight was because he'd been equipped with a shovel. In the future, he may not be able to defend her. Especially if he was so prone to being injured.

Her chest felt as if it had tightened, and Breccan's words to Bethany were entirely lost to Carlotta's ears. The only thing she could hear was the fierce beating of her heart, the pumping of blood through her brain and body. God above.. she wasn't safe here. Her knees felt as if they would buckle beneath her.. as the past few days of her mental healing was beginning to reverse.

Bethany didn't quite understand why Mr. Walker was such a problem, the man was devilishly handsome. And large. Well, you could see why she would be flustered by such a thing. But Breccan had cleaned his clock and tossed him over his horse, sending him home. And Mr. Walker had seemingly become violent when admission to seeing Mrs. Rothemburg was denied. Though, Breccan didn't see phased by the entire thing, and he even smiled at her, so it must not have been a problem. “Ah, of course, Breccan, I will go and warm you some bath water. Why don't you sit down, hm? Mrs. Rothemburg has a chair in her room, I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you-”

Bethany had turned towards the mistress of the house to make sure such a thing was okay, and only then had noticed how pale the woman had gotten. She looked sick and weak. “Miss!” Bethany called out, moving over to put an arm around the woman to keep her on her feet, “Come, now, let's get you back to bed..”

Carlotta was shaken from her fear briefly, and she nodded, taking a step towards her room, “I.. I think we ought to cancel our trip to the market tomorrow..” she instructed the maid quietly.

“Yes, Miss,” Bethany replied with a nod, “If you aren't feeling well enough for it, we ought to cancel it.”

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Cesare was highly underestimated, and that was actually to his benefit. He had a fairer hand than his cousin, and that wasn't always considered weak. Strength came in different packages. Just because the first thought in your mind was to kill a man didn't make you strong. That could be seen as a weakness. It took strength for a man, a pirate, to display proper justice in a world where violence was the default. Did defying the system not make someone the stronger? Cesare had a better head on his shoulders, but that didn't mean he was opposed to unduly violence. Oh, no, no. Cesare had his streak of fur down his back that bristled with rage just like any man, and when those bristles were sharp enough... blood was spilled. Cesare, if pushed hard enough, became merciless.

The elder Italian did not take a seat at the table like his cousin. He walked aimlessly near the nailed down piece of furniture, arms loosely crossed. They say blood is thicker than water, and while that might be true, Cesare was not against doling out vicious punishment on his cousin. Punishment for what? For making a captain's decision, which was in his power? No. For making a decision as heady as evicting a crewman's life without even bothering to consult Cesare on the matter. Cesare would not have killed Giuseppe. Cesare would have thrown him to the rats and then onto the first island to die of starvation. That was crueler. A slow death of hunger, thirst, and infected wounds of the flesh from the gnawing teeth of voracious rodents. There was fear, prolonged fear and distress. Giuseppe deserved more torment for taking the life of his "brother" in cold blood.

Mario's comment about Theodore doing rather disgusting and unmentionable things instantly raised those bristles. Cesare laughed a humorless laugh. "You speak of equality, yet you acted as if all the power belong to you. A duel captain-ship does not mean we make decisions separately. It means we make them together. Today, Mario, you disregarded my opinion, you thought it unnecessary to ask me if I wanted to kill one of our crewman. I fail to understand how that is a show of equality. Now, I will show you the same disrespect and disregard. Eye for an eye, si? Your opinion has no weight in this room, and if I am denied what is due me... I will drag you from your bed when you sleep and throw you into the sea. I do not make empty threats."

Cesare remained cool and calculated, and that was when he was the most dangerous. He was unreadable, stolid. An impassive pirate was a deadly pirate. If you cannot read your enemy's moves, you are at a higher risk. And right now, Mario was Cesare's enemy. Cousin or not. Blood or no blood. Right now, they were disagreeing pirate captains, and captains in the heat of discord were dangerous creatures. Cesare was unarmed, but that did not make him any less lethal or any more vulnerable.

In a sudden move, Cesare lifted a leg and violently kicked Mario's chair over, swiftly grabbing up the tarnished silver candelabra off the table. Cesare was down atop his cousin in an instant, free arm pressed into the younger Italian's throat. A wicked grimace sliced through Cesare's once impassive features, and he turned the candelabra upside down so that the hot wax began dripping onto Mario's handsome face. He inched it closer and closer to his cousin's flesh, the flames flicking hungrily. One more push... and those flames would be scorching Mario's flesh, scarring that beautiful mug.

"This is my decision," Cesare seethed. "Punishing you for your actions. Do you see how I completely disregarded you? Do you see how I told you nothing of what I was to do? You're angry, aren't you? Well, trattare con esso, cagna. I'm not done... and I'm not showing you any mercy. You'll take it, or I'll dig out your pretty little eye with a spoon."






Carlotta had grown horribly pale. Breccan pitied her. Donovan had done something horrid to her, something that gripped her spirit so tightly she could find no peace. Perhaps Breccan should have killed the man. He would have dragged him to the cliff edge and thrown him into the sea. Nobody would have found him. It would have been a clean murder. Oh, gosh, what was Breccan doing? He'd never killed a man in his life, never thought about it. He wasn't violent, but it was just sickening that men like Donovan Walker existed. Donovan was a bane of female existed, a constant fear in the minds of women he's assaulted. Someone ought to do him in... and Breccan might actually go through with it if Donovan showed his face again. It wouldn't be hard to bludgeon him with the shovel... or even... no. No, Breccan wouldn't think like that.

Bethany suggested Breccan take a seat in Carlotta's room while she prepared his hot bath. Carlotta had ordered him to stay away from her room, and he had an idea why. He was a male. Her trust in men was shaken. If only Breccan could prove to his mistress he was not going to harm her in any way. He wasn't interested in her. Yes, she was beautiful, but beauty didn't always make a man want a woman. There was something called admiration, appreciation. He admired and appreciated her beauty, nothing more. It was just how one admired and appreciated a flower or a color, a work of art.

"I don't..." Breccan started to decline, but the way Carlotta looked made his spine prickle with worry. She ought not to be alone. "All right," Breccan resigned himself, moving into Carlotta's room and lowering himself into the chair. At the very least, Carlotta should feel comforted that his back was debilitating. A man with a spasming back couldn't exactly assault a woman. Breccan would never touch a woman that way, but Carlotta likely wouldn't be convinced. She could use his back as a crutch, though. She would be safe for tonight, at least (though she would be safe forever around Breccan).






_______________

[Chive It Up]

So. Cesare would threaten his cousin like this, hm? Tell him that if he did not submit himself to whatever decision he'd made, that Mario would suffer worse. Ah, so it was to be punishment, then. Or, perhaps, handing over his role as Captain. That would be worse than any physical punishment, in his eyes. He and his cousin had always fought for this alpha role, but to hand over that title to Cesare was.. it wasn't going to happen.

Suddenly, Cesare knocked the chair out from under Mario and then pinned him to the floor, holding a candlestick dangerous close to his face. The wax dripped on his skin, which didn't phase him. Hell, some people used hot wax during intercourse.. it wasn't painful. Ah, so it was a burning, then? Honestly, Mario was uncertain as to whether Cesare was entirely serious or not. This was a little extreme, wasn't it?

“Shame you ain't got a fire, isn't it? Would you rather hold my face to the flame?” Mario scowled angrily at his cousin. “This is justice in your mind, eh? Equality, hm? You would dare to hurt me in retaliation? For seeing justice be done on a ship that is just as much mine as it is yours? This is crossing the line, Cesare. If you think this will be the end of it, vai a farti fottere.”

How in the world Cesare thought that punishing Mario in such a manner was equal to the 'crime' that had been done, was absurd. It would only prove to create a larger divide between the two men, it would split the crew into civil war, it would be.. a huge problem. “Drop this, now, cousin. This cannot be undone.”

- - - -

Bethany eased Carlotta to sit on the edge of her bed. The poor thing was shaken and pale. Sickly. Bethany knew that something had happened, and Mr. Walker was the problem. But she didn't know what to do about it. What could be done? She was just a servant. A nobody. “I'll bring you some water, Miss. Now you.. calm down. I'll be back in a moment.” Straightening up, she looked over to Breccan and frowned, silently conveying with her face that she was worried. If Mrs. Rothemburg wasn't going to complain about the man being in the room, then it would likely be best. She didn't need to be alone right now.

Carlotta looked to the door, watching as Bethany hurried away down the hall to fetch some drinking water for Carlotta, and start bath water for Breccan. Breccan. He was in the room, Carlotta knew. She could see him out of the corner of her eye. He didn't make any movements. Didn't dare approach her. He was keeping a safe distance away. Good. While she needed his protection, she didn't need him near her.

“I.. I'm afraid, Breccan,” Carlotta admitted quietly, “I'm sure if my husband was here, he would.. I wouldn't be afraid. But I don't know.. what to do.” Glancing over at him, she chewed her lip briefly, eyes threatening to spill tears. Don't cry, Carlotta. Be strong. she told herself. “Thank you for keeping him away.. though I don't know if.. it won't get worse. Should I hire someone to guard the house? Can I trust someone like that?” Shaking her head, she looked down to her hands, twisting the fabric of her loose gown in her fingers, “I don't know what to do.”

[Oh For The Love of Cod]

тнεσ∂σяε яσтнεмвυяg ||| αηηαℓιsε vαη ℓσυιs

tab Mario had always been the one to talk his way out of things like this. Cesare wasn't going to give in to his cousin's words. Mario was just trying to justify his wrong, and that was impossible. If he was the only captain aboard this ship, then that would have been one thing, but Cesare was the captain just as much as his cousin, so decisions like that needed to be discussed. That's what Mario failed to understand. Mario thought a dual captain-ship meant running things separately how they wanted, but that's not the accord they had. This ship was theirs. The decisions aboard it were to be made together. If Mario was trying to take things into his own hands and disregard Cesare, Cesare would do the same. Cesare would not let his baby cousin win this.

"Zitto, tu cazzo vacca," Cesare hissed. "You don't get it! You never get anything because you're un cazzo senza cervello! My aunt must have dropped you on your head as a child because something's amiss in there!" Cesare subjoined, yanking a candle out of the holder and mercilessly holding the flame right to Mario's forehead. Oh, Mario thought he'd convince his cousin not to burn him, eh? Well, Cesare was not to be trifled with. He held that handle until blood rose to the surface, and then put the damn thing out on the wound. Tossing the blood stained candle off, Cesare got off of Mario and pointed to him. "You're this close to pushing me towards killing you. Next time you decide to make a decision without me, you'll lose your damned eyes. Forget the spoon. I'll shove them so far back in your skull with my thumbs that you'll feel it in your culo."

Opening the door, Cesare stormed out and slammed it behind him. He marched up and out onto the deck, barefoot and half naked. It was cold, but his blood was hot. The crewmen stared at him like he was crazy, and he marched over to a fellow named Giovanni, who let out an alarmed shout. Cesare pulled Giovanni's dagger from his belt and shoved it without hesitation into the man's gut. Giovanni, open mouthed and wide eyed, stared at his captain. Cesare's eyes were cold, and he removed the dagger only to pierce Giovanni's chest and shove him overboard, dagger and all.

There was dead silence.

Turning to face his crew, Cesare scowled. "Don't let there be a next time with Mario. You know he was not supposed to make that call without me. I will pick you off one by one for every time he breaks our accord. Remind him where he belongs, or else this ship will be manned by ghosts. Capito?"

The men standing round nodded, and Cesare swept his eyes menacingly over their dirty, frostbitten faces before disappearing below decks in a furious rush. Giovanni's blood was on Mario's hands, not Cesare's. If Mario would have done what he should have done, Giovanni would never have been killed. But examples must be made on ships like this. They simply must be made.





Breccan watched his mistress out of the corners of his eyes. She stayed a fair piece away from him, which was fine by him. It was a pity, though, that she couldn't trust him. Would she be able to trust her husband? When he came back, would she be able to tolerate his touches? His needs and desires? Or had Donovan tarnished that too? Though it seemed Carlotta was rather desperate for her husband's company. Perhaps that was the one man Donovan had not ruined for her. After all, she married her husband, was carrying his child, acted as if she dearly loved him. She was familiar with her husband, knew him and his ways. She had nothing to fear from her husband. He was safety. Well, Breccan was safety too. If only she could see that.

Looking to her now, Breccan creased his brow. "If hiring men to guard this house is what will ease you, ma'am, then hire men. You won't, however, find muscle like that 'round Plymouth who are any better gentleman than Mr. Walker. Rapscallions and ruffians, the lot of 'em," Breccan warned her, looking towards the fire in the hearth. It wasn't laid as good as it could have been, and he had to smile. Bethany probably laid it. "Ma'am," Breccan sighed, smile tapering off, "I don't know what honor and word is worth to you, but I swear upon the air I breathe that my honor is sound and my word is solid. I won't let Mr. Walker in this house. If he comes 'round again... I'll kill him. Toss him into the sea. Man like that shouldn't exist..." Breccan trailed off, realizing he might have just frightened her even more. "Apologies, ma'am. That was... out of line."






_______________

[Chive It Up]

Mario felt the burning on his forehead, he could smell it, and it was horrible. The pain was, well, it was painful but he'd endured worse. Suppose it was supposed to make him cry out in pain, but other than grunting and grimacing, he didn't want to give his cousin the pleasure of screaming out. He'd endured a fair amount of pain in his life. But then, after the flame was extinguished, Cesare was up on his feet, threatening him again.

Grinding his teeth he watched as his cousin hurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him. He thought this was the end of this, eh? He was out of his damned mind. You couldn't kick a dog and expect it not to bite you. And Mario was as rabid as dogs could get.

Pushing himself to his feet, he briefly glanced at himself in a mirror and scowled. On his damned forehead. Like some common criminal. b*****d. He made his way into his own room and slammed the door shut. He knew Cesare had gone to address the men, and if Mario had followed him, they would have gotten into an argument in front of the crew. Then there could be no.. agreement made. If he'd known the things Cesare had said and did up there.. oh.. there would have been hell to pay.

- - - -

Carlotta didn't like hearing the fact that there were no men in Plymouth better than Mr. Walker. Was her husband the only decent man who'd lived here? Even he'd been cruel and callous at times. But never like Donovan. Never.. he'd never had a need to be, though, she would have willingly gave him anything he wanted. Anything.

The tears came, now, and Carlotta was helpless to stop them. They were silent, though, and full of self-pity. What had she ever done in her life to deserve such horrible things? If she'd married a man like that Joss, she would have been happily pregnant in Penwood. She'd still have her friends. Have her husband's protection. Have her family's house and money. Hell, she'd have the man's family to keep her company. But here.. in Plymouth, she was all alone. Sure, the staff were here, but she didn't know them.. didn't trust them. Even if Breccan would sit there and swear loyalty and honor to her, she didn't trust him.

With a quivering jaw, Carlotta shook her head, “No.. don't apologize,” she told him, “I want to see him dead. I should have.. fought him. But I was afraid.” Rubbing her nose on the back of her hand, she sniffed. “Don't hire anyone.. if they aren't trustworthy.. but don't get yourself killed on my account, Breccan. No good will come of it.”

Bethany returned at that moment, seeing her mistress in tears. She shot an angry look at Breccan and then went to sit beside Carlotta on the bed, handing her the glass. “Here you are, Miss. Drink up. Breccan, best you wait in the washroom, I'll bring you your bathwater. Eh?”